#if Logan gets dropped then someone else is gonna get DROP KICKED | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aghostpost · 3 years

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The Hard-J (Victor Creed x Reader)

A/N: I know I said it would be ready by the weekend but... it wasn’t! Excuses only work for those that make them, so I won’t bother lmao~ This one is for @queengiuliettafirstlady and everyone else that loves a little Victor Creed intensity. ♥

“Can we not do this today, please?”

“What the hell was that about?” He slammed the door after him as I went to my kitchen to put groceries away.

“He saw me walking back from the store, that’s it.”

“That’s it, huh? What did I say about hangin’ out with him?”

“We weren’t hanging out! I told you, he saw me walking and he was helping me carry a few things. That. Is it.”

“You see how he talks to me? How he’s always talked to me-“

“-I see two brothers who, for whatever reason, can’t seem to hack it.”

“We aren’t brothers.”

I rolled my eyes, shoving my peanut butter and fudge swirl ice cream into the freezer. “Brothers in arms.”

“Because there’s no damn respect! Always lookin’ down at me like he’s some kinda fuckin’ superior.”

“Vic…”

“I don’t want you around him. You hear me?”

I let out an exasperated sigh as I rolled my eyes. “It’s too hot to argue about this shit.”

“You’re the one arguing instead of just agreeing, Y/N.”

“Your relationship with Logan is just that: yours. I have no problem with the guy.”

“If I see you two together again-“

“- Do not end that sentence with a threat, Victor-“

“- I’ll do you one better and end it with a guaran-fucking-tee!”

“We live in the same city, I’m bound to run into him sometimes!”

“Y/N look at me… Hey!” He shouted, making me jump out of my skin as I gave him my undivided attention. Clearly he was serious, which he tended to be. But this time, more serious than normal.

He was always so very dead serious whenever we talked about Logan.

“I don’t care if you’re next door neighbors with him. If I see you two with each other again, it will not end well.”

“For him? Or for me?”

“Both o’ you.”

I stared him down and watched him do the same, his face cold hard steel, not even a muscle flexing as he spoke to me. “What the hell happened between you two, anyway?” I asked. “What did he do that’s so damn bad you’re forbidding me to even say hi? He kill your cat or somethin’?”

He smirked and let out a huff of a chuckle, his left fang peeking from behind his lips. “You think I’m kiddin’?”

I rolled my eyes and pushed him away from me to continue putting the food away. “Yeah, sure. Whatever. I’ll stay away from him, Victor. Whatever the hell makes-” I couldn’t finish my sentence before I heard the loud crash of glass breaking. I whipped around and saw a wet puddle dripping on my wall, the floor beneath it decorated with broken glass and what was a very nice bouquet of assorted flowers. “Are you shitting me?!”

“Oh, I got your attention now?”

“You had it! You’re throwing a temper tantrum, breaking my shit, all because you’re jealous of someone I’m not even interested in?”

“Jealous?” he questioned as he slowly stalked towards me, like a predator carefully eyeing its prey. I was no stranger to Victor's temper; under the right circumstances, he could go from settled to up in flames with the snap of a finger. Maybe it’s because he was never really at ease, always ready to pounce at any moment’s notice if necessary. Yeah, I know he has little patience and is kinda trigger happy to get into a fight, his own source of entertainment. But that was with other people, strangers. With me, he exercised a lot more restraint. We’d have arguments, he’d yell, maybe hurt a wall and then storm off.

But whenever Logan was involved, it was a different story...

“You need to relax,” I warned as I slowly backed away from him, ready to defend myself if necessary, even if I knew it was a losing battle.

“Did you just say I was jealous of him?”

“Are you?”

“What reason do I have to be jealous?”

“You tell me. What is it, Vic? You think I’m gonna run off with him into the sunset? You come over here one day to see me, all my shit is packed up and I leave a note behind? I doubt he’d throw my shit around like you just did.”

“I bought you those damn flowers,” he growled.

“You gonna buy the replacements too?” I asked playfully, trying to diffuse the tension but failing. It was painfully obvious, literally, he wasn’t in the mood to play when I felt his fist grip me like a boa constrictor. He forced my head against the kitchen cabinet behind me and got close to my face. If he moved any closer he’d be able to taste the chive cream cheese bagel I had on the way over here.

“Now that all depends…”

“Victor, let go of me. Now.”

“What’s the matter, hm? I thought you liked it rough?” he spoke with a tone of warning before a lecherous grin spread across his face. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t release a flutter deep in my belly, my incessant desire for him threatening to surface. It was embarrassing and admittedly disgusting to me, how even in moments as such, there was always going to be some shred of me that could neither ignore nor deny my constant thirst for him to satisfy me in ways only Victor knew how.

“You’ve made your point.” I tried to remain calm while fighting for air. I was willing to bet money that he could feel my pulse quickening beneath his grip. If even one of his claws came out I’d be bleeding out all over the linoleum.

“Have I?”

“You have five seconds to get the fuck off of me... or I walk.” He stared me in the eye only a few seconds longer before relinquishing his grip. If there was anything I caught on to in the seven months we’ve been seeing each other, if that’s even what you wanna call him dropping by for food, sex and quality conversation with a solid night’s rest, it’s that he actually greatly enjoyed having me in his life. He would never admit it, of course, being the poster boy for hypermasculinity; no way he’d display the level of emotion required to confess he liked me. But I picked up on it in subtle ways he probably doesn’t even notice. The way he throws his arm over me in his sleep, subconsciously keeping me in place with him. The way he came over and pretended it was just for sex, when we wouldn’t wind up having sex at all. The flowers he bought me, before throwing them to the wall in a rage. Most importantly, the way he wouldn’t stay gone long after a fight and would come back with his tail tucked in ready to apologize, afraid that would be the fight that finally scared me off and into the arms of someone else. I wasn’t using that to my advantage here, but I was letting him know what we both knew but never spoke of:

He wanted me around. He liked me.

I took a moment to allow oxygen to return to my lungs before I addressed him. “I pushed a button o’ yours with that little J-word?”

“What on Earth gave you that idea?” he asked sarcastically.

I nodded. “Fine. Noted. But I promise you, next time you use your words, because if you ever think about putting your hands on me again-”

“-Now you’re ending sentences with threats?”

“Guarantees, right?” I stalked to the corner of the kitchen and grabbed the broom that was wedged between the wall and my fridge then slammed it into his chest. “Dust pan behind the fridge,” was all I said before making my way to the bedroom.

“We’re not done-”

“-I am.” The moment I turned the corner out of the kitchen he was following me, the broom loudly clapping against the kitchen floor. The same hand that was just wrapped tightly around my throat was now finding its way around my waist along with his other one, pressing me to the wall. “Victor-“

“-I’ll getcha new flowers.”

“Fuck the flowers and fuck you.” He wasn’t hearing any of it. He grabbed my wrists and began making his way to the couch, my legs clumsily bumping into any and everything I walked towards.

“I’m not gonna pour my heart out an’ tell you all the fucked up things about me, if that’s what you’re waitin’ for me to do.”

“Mutant in human world. It’s not hard to figure out.”

“And I’m not tellin’ you the textbook of reasons I’m not holdin’ hands with him either.”

“And I’m not agreeing to stay away from him for your reasons and personal grudges unknown.”

“So maybe I didn’t make myself as clear as I thought.” Before I was aware the back of my legs bumped into the arm of my couch. I was desperate to create some sort of distance between us, so I fell backwards and wiggled away to the far opposite end of the couch. He stood at my feet and without breaking eye contact, lifted the loose black henley from his chest. He was possibly the only person I knew that could wear black and long sleeves in the peak of a summer in the city without breaking a sweat. But now wasn’t the time to be impressed by minor things.

“It’s too hot for this, too.”

“You tellin’ me no?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” he asked as he continued advancing in my direction, fumbling with the belt on his jeans as he kicked his shoes off.

“Because I don’t feel like it. You’re not about to makeup sex your way out of putting your hands on me, dick.”

He shrugged to himself. “You never turned it down before.”

“Well, you know what they say the definition of insanity is, right…”

“Doin’ the same shit, expecting different results.”

“And I want different results, Victor.”

“Fine. So let’s try somethin’ different.” Without a word or warning he bent down and scooped me up, a hand firmly resting under each of my thighs, my legs snaked around his waist. I thought he was headed towards the bedroom, but he took a surprising left turn to the apartment balcony, gripping me tightly before using a hand to open the sliding glass door. The humidity instantly smothered me, my glasses fogging from the shock of being exposed to the summer heat after leaving my air conditioned living room. He sat in one of the wicker seats of my patio set and placed me in his lap, lifting my sundress so I could straddle him free of obstruction. He placed me directly onto his cock and was not gentle about it; my head instantly fell back as a rush of air escaped my chest, my hands finding his neck.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Exactly.”

“Shut the hell up.” There was no time for playful banter. The sun had only just started to set, meaning there was still plenty daylight for us to be seen; this had to be quick. And quiet. Quiet would be the hard part without a doubt. With his help, I lifted my body up and down, his fingertips digging into my hips as he held tightly to my waist. “Holy shit, Vic.”

“Still think I’m jealous?”

I grinned to myself. “I dunno; you’re fuckin’ me like you got somethin’ to prove,” I teased. Clearly there was jealousy but I knew better than to answer him with a yes. But if jealousy is this good a sexual motivator, I’d be happy with this silver lining to our fight. He lifted my dress up more, enough for him to expose my tits and seize my right one with his mouth. My head fell back, a cry escaping me when I felt the sharp stab of his teeth on the mound of flesh. “Fuck!” He growled, his mouth vibrating slightly around my nipple.

“Ya still gonna run away and leave a note?” he asked, the heat from his mouth making toes curl.

“Never.” Unless he pushed me to it, of course.

I felt the pads of his fingertips press my scalp, my hair tightly intertwined in his digits as he pulled my head back and forced me to make eye contact. “Don’t threaten to walk again.”

I rolled my eyes. “Or else?” I mocked.

He shook his head, his pelvis ceasing, the rapid rise and fall of our chests the only movement remaining between us. “No. Just don’t.”

I stared at him a moment longer and simply nodded before standing and turning around, lifting my dress over my head, then taking the rusty balcony rail in my hands to steady myself. I turned to look at him; to my surprise he was already stroking himself in the absence of something else warm wrapped around his cock. “Whatcha waitin’ for?”

“Can’t enjoy the view?”

“Enjoy it any longer and I’m gonna melt.”

“Someone other than me hungry for it?” he said with a hard slap to my right cheek before roughly re-entering from behind, making me jerk forward into the hot metal rail. I grunted at the pain in effort not to be too loud and settled comfortably on him, my body fitting him like a glove. He was in no way gentle as he thrust himself in and out of me, primal grunts escaping his chest every time his hips rammed into my ass. My tits would surely be bruised the way I was uncomfortably pressed into the railing. I stared at the rusted and flaking metal coating of the bars beneath my arms and fought to keep my legs from collapsing beneath me, every bone in my limbs turning to apple sauce, my muscles sore and aching. If only this kind of workout kept me in shape and was doctor recommended. And quiet as I was, there was nothing I could do to muffle the loud smack that echoed in the air when Victor got slap happy, or the sound that came from my mouth as a result. The funny thing was, the more I tried to shush him, the more intensely he fucked me, and the more sound we both ended up making.

“Sss, holy fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, Vic! Shit!” I cried out, the restraint I had for my volume loosening. On a slower day I would have had a bit more self control, but I never lasted long, or quietly, when he was in a more animalistic mood.

“Mm, that’s right,” he grunted, digging his fingers into my hip bones. “Lemme have it, baby.” And before I knew it I did exactly that. My legs gave out beneath me and I fell to my knees, failing to hold myself up on the balcony railing any longer as I came. My moans were beyond stifling, and I felt nothing else, not even the pools of sweat pouring out of me. For just a moment I’d fallen into a deep well of ecstasy, my head throbbing from the mix of summer heat and pleasure, before I regained some composure to return the favor.

I grabbed the thin cushion from my patio chair and placed it at his feet and knelt before him, taking him into my mouth as deep as I could. As hungrily as I could. Without hesitation his hands flew to my head, cradling the back of my skull and maneuvering me to a pace of his pleasure. “Atta girl,” he encouraged. He knew I was a sucker for praise, and after being a complete asshole I was expecting him to lay it on with the ass kissing for the rest of the evening. Now he had me working like I was the jealous one, when really I was only in competition with myself; I wanted to see if I could make him cum quicker than any of the other times I did this. I worked my head in a swivel and both of my hands in opposing twisting motion, pulling him into me as far as I could without biting off more than I could chew. It was useless, however, since Victor was determined to push my head down way past my limits. His hips undulated as he thrust his dick deeper and deeper into my throat. He’d momentarily pause and hold his place before pulling out to allow me to draw air, all before repeating the process. “Look at me,” he demanded, which was all he needed to say for me to know what time it was. I stared upwards at him with his cock still in my mouth, my eyes glassy with tears, and he pushed himself deep into my throat one final time and pumped the tip of his dick at the back of my throat. He held eye contact for as long as he could before his head fell backwards, eyes slamming shut as I felt the muscles of his thighs tighten. He grunted a low, beastlike growl before I felt him release all he had to offer in my throat, the sensation slightly tickling. I slowly jerked his dick off for good measure to ensure I got him for every drop before swallowing the thick, sticky fluid, swirling my tongue around his tip before he removed himself from my mouth.

“Ah, Jesus fuck,” he sighed, his chest rising and falling as he tried to recover.

“I think I missed that Sunday school lesson.” He rolled his eyes and looked down at me, head still resting in his lap, before rising and extending a hand. I grabbed and he pulled me up, coming face to face with him and the wild grin plastered on his face. “Back inside before my ass gets covered in bug bites.”

“I could scratch it for ya,” he offered, running a claw harmlessly up my spine. I shivered and pushed away from him before round two threatened to begin, sliding the balcony door open, relieved once the ice cold air conditioning hit my chest.

“No thanks. But you absolutely can buy me another bouquet of flowers. And a vase, while you’re at it.”

#request #victor creed #victor creed x reader #reader imagine

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Realignment

Prompt: I love when Remus is a lot smarter than he lets on, so I’d love a prompt where Logan is overworking himself and not taking care of himself and one tic of the clock away from either passing out or having a full on mental breakdown (not the type you can recover from in a day). Remus notices the little signs Logan shows, and hears the intrusive thoughts Logan has. Remus really becomes concerned when Logan’s intrusive thoughts start to involve taking breaks, going to eat properly rather than inhaling granola bars, and even sleeping. Remus storms in and is like “Logan tf????” Then gets hella soft once he realizes the state Logan is in

Thank you for the prompts, babe! I liked this one the best so I picked it.

GUYS PLEASE VIEW THIS AS A C H E C K P O I N T if you've been scrolling for a while (and you probably have) pause here! drink water! get food! walk around the room for a little bit! stretch! do something please! you are very important to me and I care about you very deeply!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of self-harm, nothing explicit, some self-destructive tendencies and behaviors.

Pairings: focus on intrulogical, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 2410

Realignment: to align again.

Realignment: to reorganize or make new groupings of.

* * *

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

The problem arises when the shit he starts to hear isn't weird at all.

Remus hears a lot of weird shit.

The more appropriate definition would be ‘fucked up like you wouldn’t fucking believe,’ but one of us has a problem with particularly strong language and shit doesn’t have to be censored in a lot of media anymore. Which is so convenient! For some of us!

It’s fucking great.

Anyway. Point being. Fucked up shit.

Intrusive thoughts literally fall under his purview. It’s the fun stuff! The stuff you don’t wanna think about that makes your skin crawl and your eyes pop open at the witching hour and stay awake until the sun rises. That’s Remus’s job.

And it’s like the whole Mindscape is whack-a-mole that he gets to play with! Buttons here and there, squeeze this part and watch the eyes bug out of this part, bap this one on the head, see which one pokes up next. Who’s gonna have nightmares tonight? Who is having a nightmare tonight?

It’s fun.

Point. Right. Right.

It’s normally pretty easy to tell whose intrusive thoughts are whose. They taste different. Patton’s taste like sugar so sweet it’ll fill your mouth with cavities. Virgil’s taste like spiders, crawling around his mouth. Janus’s taste like salt. So much fucking salt. Dry as hell.

Roman’s taste like blood. Problem is, Remus’s mouth normally tastes like blood, so…

Yeah, they gotta work that out.

Logan’s taste like ink. Which is why it took him so long to figure out that Logan was having them. Not just because the nerdy wolverine was so convinced he couldn’t have them—rationalizing them as philosophy principles, come on—but because Remus isn’t exactly an expert on pens. Writing like normal people. Ugh.

Normal people.

What a lie, Janny probably gets a big kick out of those.

No one is normal and normal is boring.

Logan. Right.

Okay, so here’s the thing.

Logan’s thoughts aren’t really…standard? They are to some extent, you don’t really get a whole lot of variety from him—even when Remus has been so helpful in making his room safe for him to be in during bad days, there’s such a lack of imagination there that he wasn’t sure exactly how to feel—but it’s the recent ones that’ve been getting…weird.

Remus chews thoughtfully on the kraken tentacle. He swings up to the chandelier and hangs by his ankles, letting the blood run to his head. Makes it easier to think sometimes.

It hasn’t been very long since they found out…well, since they found out.

Remus frowns. Why is he censoring himself? It’s not like he can’t fucking say self-harm, it’s not like he can’t describe what it was, it’s not like he can’t close his eyes and see it happening again.

Then his mind jumps helpfully to the shocked, panicked look on Logan’s face and the soft, furious resignation on Roman’s, and his jaw snaps shut.

Oh.

Right.

He cares. So he has to be gentle with them.

He growls, swinging himself up to perch on the chandelier proper. He turns the kraken tentacle over and chews on the rubbery side.

The others are delicate. Not that they’re more breakable than any other metaphysical humanoid, but their minds are fragile when it comes to Remus’s side of things. Could they handle the full spectrum of his side of thoughts and shit? Probably, they’re stronger than they give themselves credit for. Should they have to? Hell to the fuck no. But it means that Remus can’t just throw them in the deep end and see if the kraken spits them out whole or in chunks. Could they survive? Absolutely. Would they still be…them? Doubtful.

Remus lets one of his legs go, hanging by one knee as he tips over.

Plus they’re always a little more fragile when it comes to these thoughts anyway. Poking and prodding too much would hurt. Like, the bad kind of hurt.

They’re not supposed to get hurt. Not like that.

So. Gentle it is then.

Right. The others. He has a point, he’s just gotta get there.

Roman…fuck he’s missed his brother. They got—they got so much shit to still work out but they’re gonna do it together and fuck he loves his brother so goddamn much. Roman knows that, he knows that, and he’s always there to pull Remus out of his head when he needs it, hit him with a pillow, or tackle him onto something and hold him tight. He’s—his thoughts taste like blood and Remus hasn’t bitten anything since so that he’ll never miss it again.

But with Logan...

Logan is…odd. It hasn’t been long since they first found out—or rather, they confronted him about it, and Remus hasn’t tasted ink without it disappearing very quickly or knocking on someone’s door to please go get your fucking nerd, please. But the ink has only written the usual suspects, whispering the theorems in dark corners, muttering about the incompleteness of a set, the need for Logic, not Logan, and how to jump through the little loophole again.

It’s not exactly hard for the others to tell.

Lolo hasn’t been looking great. Sure, he’s all pressed and dressed, glasses perfectly in place, tie done up just so, walking around like everything’s just totally and completely fine, but it’s in his face. Object impermanence aside, normally when Remus bugs him, he reacts in some way.

Sass is an emotional response and you won’t convince him otherwise.

Whether it be a wry comment, effortlessly fixing whatever Remus has done to him this time, or even just a look, Lolo does something.

Not anymore.

Now he’ll just kind of…sigh and move on? He’ll fix whatever it is only if it’s directly interfering with what he’s trying to do, or when Patton or Virgil come round the corner and freak the fuck out because you’re bleeding! Then he’ll fix it.

Remus wouldn’t say he’s bored, but he’s worried.

Mainly because the intrusive thoughts…aren’t what he’d consider intrusive anymore.

Take a shower.

Eat something that isn’t just a granola bar.

Go to sleep.

Ask someone for help.

See?

If those are Lolo’s intrusive thoughts, then what the fuck is normally going on in his head?

Remus waits. Waits. Keeps waiting.

The instant his mouth tastes like ink again, with a question of whether or not Logan should take a break, he sinks straight into his shower. He washes his hair thoroughly, gets every single bit of grime off him he can, and puts on the softest pajamas he has—thank you, Roman—and drops himself outside of Logan’s door.

He strains, mouth still full of ink, to hear anything other than the soft click, click, click of Logan’s keyboard.

He can’t.

Fuck.

He knocks.

“One moment, please.”

Indeed, a few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Logan, looking as annoyingly pristine as he always does, surprised to see him.

“Remus? Did you need something? Why…” he trails off as he takes in what Remus is wearing. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I come in?”

“Of—of course,” Logan stammers, moving aside to let him in, “are you alright?”

“Should be asking you that, Lolo.”

“Remus, you’ve just knocked, first of all, on my door and asked to come inside.” Logan adjusts his glasses as he sits at his desk. “This is extremely out of character for you.”

“Uh-huh.” Remus flops onto the bed. “You know what else is out of character?”

“Not wearing your costume?”

“Not hearing intrusive thoughts.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “Has—is there something wrong? Are you not hearing any? Do I need to get Roman?”

Remus frowns. “Why’s it so easy for you to do that?”

“Do what?”

“Care. Try and take care of me.”

Logan blinks. “Because you deserve to be taken care of, Remus. Your needs are important.”

Remus idly toys with a loose thread on one sleeve. “Why?”

“Why? Why are you important?” Remus nods. “Because you’re—you’re an important part of Thomas, you’re important to us, and we care about you.”

“So it’s easy for you to care for me because…you do?”

“As simple as that sounds,” Logan says with all the softness that should be directed at himself, “yes.”

Remus nods. “I’m not having problems with hearing intrusive thoughts.”

“You’re—you’re not?” Logan sighs, relaxing a little back into his chair. “Then why did you say you were?”

“Because the thoughts that I am hearing aren’t really what I’d consider intrusive.”

Logan frowns. “Like what?”

Glad you fucking asked.

“‘Take a shower,’” Remus says, his eyes fixed firmly on Logan’s face, “'eat something,’ ‘take a break,’ ‘go to sleep.’”

He watches Logan’s face tense.

“Sound familiar, Lolo?”

“You—I—my apologies,” Logan manages after a moment, adjusting his tie, “I did not mean to be an inconvenience. You are correct, those are not intrusive thoughts, I’m not sure why you’re hearing them.”

He turns to his desk and begins to fish around for a notebook.

“That is quite intriguing, I wonder what the possibilities for hearing other types of thoughts are, considering—“

“Lolo.”

Logan pauses, turning back. “Yes?”

Remus fixes him with a look, getting up and walking toward him. “They are intrusive thoughts, Logan. The issue is that your intrusive thoughts are about you taking care of yourself.”

Logan freezes.

“W-well, I’m sure that it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“So either you can admit that was a lie or Janny’s about to get summoned.”

“Remus,” Logan sighs, “it’s fine. As you said, these aren’t what are traditionally considered intrusive thoughts, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“No, Lolo, it is,” Remus argues, “because it means that the thought of you taking care of yourself is so foreign, so fucking out of the ordinary that not only does it happen to cross your mind—“ he takes Logan’s chair and spins it around— “but you try to force it out.”

Gotcha.

Logan looks anywhere other than Remus’s face and tries to stand. Only to wobble and crash back down.

“Easy,” Remus says quietly, resting a hand on his shoulder, “you haven’t eaten in a while.”

“But I have work.”

“But you need food.”

“Remus—“

“Logan.”

At Logan’s honest-to-fuck pout, he sighs, dragging the poor nerd up and out the chair and sitting him on the bed.

“Why do you think you don’t deserve to be taken care of?”

“I didn’t say that—hey!” Logan blinks up at him, scandalized and covering his stomach. “Why did you poke me?”

“’S what I do when Janny won’t tell me the truth.”

“I wasn’t—okay, okay!” Logan covers his stomach protectively as Remus readies another poke. “I just…I’ve already asked for help for this before. I shouldn’t have to again.”

Remus sighs and lightly flicks the side of his head.

“Hey!”

“Virgil tries that too.” He stares hard at Logan. “Come on, Lolo, you can do better.”

“It’s not your jobs to take care of me.”

For fuck’s sake…

Remus reaches out and tugs gently on Logan’s tie.

“Remus, what—“

“You taking more books outta Patton’s library now?” Remus tilts his head. “You don’t have to beat around the bush, Lolo, just be honest.”

“I am being honest!”

“You’re not lying, but you’re not being honest.” At the poor nerd’s confusion, he sighs and fixes his glasses on that cute nose. “Just talk to me, Lolo.”

“I—“ Logan sighs and oh fuck why does he look so tired?

Well, because he hasn’t been sleeping.

Or eating.

Or taking care of himself.

Unbidden, part of his conversation with Roman flashes into his head.

“Self-harm can be self-denial too.”

“Lolo?”

“It’s bad enough that I’ve made you all worry about me,” Logan says finally, “I would hate to be a burden.”

Oh, Lolo. “You and Roman, huh?”

Logan looks up warily. “What do you do with Roman?”

“You know what I do.”

Logan sighs. “May at least take my glasses off first?”

“You might wanna change too, I’m not letting you up for a while.”

Logan stretches to place his glasses on the nightstand and poofs himself into a t-shirt and boxers. He sighs and opens his arms.

Remus takes two running steps and tackles the poor nerd onto his bed.

“Ah!”

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, no, just—just a little startled.”

“Mm.” Remus snuggles closer into Logan, his arms wrapped tightly around him. “So. Wanna try one more time?”

Logan sighs, deflating them both to the bed. His head lolls to his left, eyes on his open computer screen. Remus follows it, barely suppressing a growl as he stretches his arm out to save whatever’s on screen and shut it.

“I know what I’m supposed to be doing,” Logan whispers, “I understand the process, I am aware that healing is not a linear concept, I know it’s going to take time, I—I understand.”

Remus looks down, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “But?”

“It’s hard,” comes the soft confession.

Oh, Lolo.

“I know,” he murmurs, leaning down to hug him properly, “I know, Lolo, I know it’s hard. But you can’t try and do it all yourself, you’ve gotta remember that we’re here for you, we care about you.”

“But why?”

Remus smiles and cuddles him tighter. “You said it yourself, Lolo. We care because we do.”

“O-oh.” He feels Logan’s throat work as he swallows. “Thank you, Remus.”

“Of course, Lolo. I’m guessing that sinking us to the living room so everyone else can spoil you is a bad idea, right?”

“Yes.” Finally, finally, he feels Logan shyly tighten his grip on him. “Can we just…stay like this?”

“Do I have your permission to hold you hostage until you fall asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Then go to sleep, Lolo,” Remus murmurs, “I’m not going anywhere.”

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders #logan angst #virgil sanders #patton sanders #self harm #tw self harm #tw: self harm

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eliemo · 3 years

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Permafrost: Chapter 2

Summary: After Virgil agrees to follow Roman into the Imagination, a shift in the weather and an unfortunate misstep sends Virgil plummeting into uncharted waters. If only it didn’t take a matter of life or death and a race against time to realize the Prince might not hate him after all.

TW: Drowning, effects of severe cold, steps of CPR

Notes: Romantic Prinxiety (pre relationship) I tried to make the effects in this chapter as realistic as possible but if some things are inaccurate no they aren’t

Permafrost taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck @snowyfires @the-sympathetic-villain @my-life-is-an-artistic-mess @itsjust-la-me @ray-does-stuff @brokaw22 @johnlaurensintheplacetobe @teamplutoforlife @myrandomfandoms12 @riverdoesbadart

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Roman knew his role, and he played it well. He was the hero, charging into battle and adventures without a second thought, smiling in the face of bloodthirsty beasts with his sword at his side. Princes weren’t cowards.

But when Virgil lost his grip and went under, Roman had never been so scared in his entire life.

“Virgil!”

He’d been so close, finally dropping to his knees on the unsteady ice and desperately reaching out, fingers just brushing freezing cold skin when the current took advantage of Virgil’s rapidly waning strength and pulled him under.

Roman’s own scream, hollow and empty and terrified, echoed right back at him, thrown in his face to remind him that he’d been too slow-

He pushed his own thoughts aside (he could blame himself later. God why hadn’t he been faster?) and plunged his arm into the water until he was shoulder deep, hissing against the sudden sting of the cold.

But Roman didn’t have the place to complain, not when Virgil had just been completely submerged right in front of him.

It had all happened so fast, Roman reaching into the violent river less than a second after Virgil disappeared, so maybe- maybe there was still enough time. Please please please let him be fast enough-

His fingers found something soft and solid, just barely managing to grab onto what he was almost positive was Virgil’s hoodie (please please let it be Virgil’s hoodie) before it was swept away completely.

He was almost yanked into the water himself by the force of the current, the river fighting relentlessly to pry Virgil away, and Roman felt a sudden rush of irrational anger.

He wasn’t sure where it came from, something defiant and protective that wrapped around his chest- something that went deeper than his desire to be someone’s hero. Because he was Creativity, and this was his realm. It didn’t get to take anything from him.

It didn’t get to take Virgil.

Roman reared back, mind almost blank as he fought against the water and pulled Virgil back towards the surface, heart skipping a beat when he finally caught a glimpse of purple hair floating in the freezing water.

He hadn’t lost him. He was ok, he would be ok, Roman would make sure of it. Virgil was not going to die because Roman had been a little too eager to spend time with the recently accepted side.

He moved closer to the edge, forcing himself to ignore the way the already unstable ice creaked dangerously, letting out a sky breath when he was able to get two hands hooked under Virgil's shoulders.

It was only then, pulling against the weight of the water trying to drag them both down, that he realized Virgil wasn’t fighting back. He was perfectly still, no more kicking or struggling as the current kept him under.

No. No no no. He wasn’t too late. He wasn’t too late. Virgil would be fine.

Roman honestly wasn’t sure how he managed to gain the upper hand in his fight with the current. It was strength he doubted he could have harnessed under any other circumstance, a sudden rush of adrenaline he imagined Thomas got from Virgil sometimes right before rushing on stage and pouring his heart out in front of an audience.

Maybe it was the last of Virgil’s strength bleeding into Roman’s determination, a last desperate attempt to help save his own life. The two of them had always been a good team, even if they hadn’t realized it sooner.

Virgil finally broke the surface, Romans’s arms wrapped firmly around his chest as he dragged him onto the ice, terrified he would lose his grip and let Virgil slip through his hands when they were so close to being safe.

There was no gasp for air, no coughing or sputtering as he choked and spat out water. Virgil was out of the river, but he was still unmoving and silent, lips and fingertips tinged an alarming shade of blue.

But that was ok. It was ok! (It wasn’t ok- it was the farthest thing from ok.) The ice creaked again, shifting a bit under the added weight, and Roman forced himself to move before he got them both killed.

“You’re ok,” Roman said, despite Virgil remaining limp and unresponsive as he carefully scooped the anxious side up off the ground. He had to do something to fill the suffocating silence. “You’re ok, you’re fine. I’ve got you. You’re ok.”

The ice was definitely unsteady as Roman brought them back to the surrounding snow, but it thankfully didn’t crack or give way any further. Apparently Virgil had managed to find the most unstable chunk in what could easily be the deepest part of the lake.

And Roman had kept walking. Roman had teased and waved off his panic. And then when he realized what had happened, when he’d heard the genuine terror in Virgil’s voice, it had already been too late. He’d been too far away.

But Virgil was in his arms now. Virgil was...he was limp against Roman’s chest, river water leaking from his mouth, and he wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t breathing.

He pushed down his panic, even as his head spun and his hands shook from more than just the cold, carefully setting Virgil down in the snow against the nearest tree trunk, the bare twisted branches offering a bit of shelter from the snowfall.

Virgil was horribly pale, even more than usual, and Roman hated how he blended in with the ground, everything a startling shade of white save for the heavy tint of blue his lips had gained.

Roman reached forward with shaking hands, holding his breath as he pressed two fingers against the ice cold skin below Virgil’s jaw, searching frantically for a pulse while his eyes welled up with tears.

There was nothing there. There was nothing, Virgil didn’t have a pulse, and Roman wanted to sob. “Hang on,” he whispered to no one, because he wasn’t sure what to say when his friend looked like a corpse. “Just hang on, Virge.”

Before he could stare too long and spiral into worry, because Virgil’s face should never look so lifeless, Roman squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to try and recall what Logan taught them to do in a situation like this.

It had been years ago, and Roman had decided the lesson was boring, unnecessary, and not worth his attention. And of course, now it was a matter of life and death, and he was struggling to remember a word Logan had said.

It had been Virgil’s idea for Logan to teach them all how to perform CPR. “You never know what could happen. It’s just better to be prepared.” He’d insisted.

Back then, Roman had chalked it up to Anxiety just trying to ruin their fun and keep everyone paranoid for his own twisted amusement. He really made himself sick sometimes.

If Virgil was awake right now, he would be rolling his eyes and teasing him for being such a stubborn idiot. Virgil had always just been trying to help. To keep them all safe. And Roman had always responded with suspicion and hostility.

But he wasn’t awake, and if Roman didn’t remember this stupid lecture Logan had given, he might never wake up again.

Roman racked his brain as hard as he could, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to picture Logan’s voice. After pulling someone from the water you have to…you have to move them…on their back!

Roman rushed to move Virgil so he was laying down, working quickly yet handling the anxious side as if he were made of glass. He slowly and carefully placed him flat on his back, making sure he didn’t hit his head on the ground.

Ok, first step finished. Roman closed his eyes again as he reached into his memory for what to do next. He had to put his hands- no, his palms- on Virgil’s stomach. His stomach? No, it was...it was...his chest? His chest!

Roman wished more than anything Virgil was over his shoulder, gently poking fun at the Prince’s scrambled thoughts.

But he wasn’t, and Roman unzipped the soaking wet hoodie to place his hands on Virgil’s chest, one hand crossed over the other, mirroring the way he remembered Logan had positioned his own hands on the practice dummy he’d made Roman conjure.

Now, all he had to do was push down to the beat of ‘Stayin’ Alive’, just like The Office taught him, and then move to tilt Virgil’s head back, pinch his nose closed, and breathe for him until the anxious side’s chest could rise on its own.

Roman wasted no time starting the motions. He hummed the tune under his breath to keep the rhythm, quickly deciding that once this was over he would never be able to hear that song again.

But that didn’t matter right now. Right now he just needed Virgil to breathe.

But...but he wasn’t. Roman lost track of how many times he pressed down on Virgil’s chest, how many times he repeated that song over and over in his head, the compressions getting a little bit more desperate every time.

He lost count of how many times he leaned over his friend to send a breath rattling down his throat, trembling and lightheaded as he touched Virgil’s frigid skin, only able to silently hope his lungs would get the message and bring him back.

“Come on, Virgil,” he found himself pleading, vision obscured by gathering tears. “Come on, wake up! You can do it, I know you can do it. Just come back, ok? You’re gonna be ok, just breathe! Please, Virgil please. We...I can’t lose you! You have to wake up!”

Was he doing something wrong? Had he just been too late? Too slow? Too stupid? If it was anyone else, Vigil would have already been awake by now, conscious and breathing.

...If it were anyone else, Virgil wouldn’t have fallen in the lake at all. Virgil wouldn’t even be here. He’d be warm and safe in someone else’s arms and Roman wouldn’t be kneeling in the snow, begging him to open his eyes.

He needed Virgil to wake up. He needed him. It had taken him so long to see it, pushing it down and covering it up with insults and nicknames and denial, but now...now Roman didn’t think he could handle losing Virgil.

He couldn’t lose Virgil’s voice, his smile, the way the whole world seemed brighter when Roman got the anxious side to laugh. Virgil was kind and sharp and funny, and he cared so much. He was...he was perfect, and Roman--

Virgil suddenly jolted under his hands, making a horrible sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a cough, eyes flying open in panic as he fought and struggled for air he couldn’t get.

Roman’s cry of relief came out as something closer to a sob, but he couldn’t find it in him to care, scrambling off of Virgil and not bothering to wipe the tears from his face.

Prince thankfully had the sense to turn Virgil on his side to keep him from choking, wincing at the string of wet coughs and hacking coming from the soaked figure in the snow.

It sounded horrible, Virgil’s breaths coming in strangled wheezes as he coughed and spewed up what looked like half the river, but right now it was the most beautiful noise Roman had ever heard.

He couldn’t imagine how much pain the other side was in right now, every breath an agonized and confused fight for air, but it at least meant Virgil was alive.

“You’re ok,” Roman said, voice still unsteady and raw from crying. “Hey, you’re ok, you’re alright. Just let it out, you’re doing great.”

Virgil was obviously too busy throwing up water to respond, and Roman suddenly had no idea what he was supposed to do.

“I’m here,” he offered, tentatively scooting closer, terrified he would just make everything worse. “You’re ok, Virgil. It’s ok.”

He carefully placed a hand on Virgil’s back, rubbing small circles in between his shoulder blades. The hoodie was just as soaked as the rest of him, heavy and cold and probably clinging to his skin. It was impossible not to notice how hard Virgil was shaking, teeth chattering so much Roman could hear it over the wind.

Gosh, Virgil must be freezing.

“R- Ro...R-Roman.” He coughed again, and Roman wrapped an arm around him to keep Virgil from falling flat on his face. “R-Roman--”

“Shh, I’ve got you.” He pulled Virgil back to lean against his chest, frowning at how the hoodie still dripped with icy water. “I’m gonna help you, ok? We’re gonna get you warmed up.”

Roman moved to take the lapels of the hoodie, gently trying to slide it off the shivering side, tearing up again when Virgil made a noise of protest, scared and small. He tried to cling onto the garment, but his hands were too unsteady to get a good grip.

“I know,” Roman said. “But the hoodie’s soaked, Virge. It’s just making things worse, I need to get it off.”

Either Virgil understood and stopped fighting, or he didn’t have the strength to struggle anymore, but he dropped his arms and leaned even more into the Prince’s side. He just hoped Virgil recognized Roman was trying to help.

The hoodie wasn’t easy to get off, the cloth clinging to Virgil’s bare arms, the anxious side whimpering when the wind hit his skin. “P-please, please d-don’t...Roman--”

“I know.” God, Virgil was barely able to get his words out through his own chattering teeth. “I know it’s cold, but just hang in there. Please.”

Roman wasted no time once the hoodie was off. He quickly laid it out beside them on the snow, hoping the wind would at least do something to dry it off, and repositioned himself slightly, one hand still wrapped carefully around Virgil’s chest.

He detached his red sash first, tossing it carelessly into the snow and vowing not to leave it, or the hoodie, behind. It took a few seconds, Virgil still leaned heavily up against him, but Roman managed to shrug off his white jacket, shuddering when that left him in just a black t-shirt.

It was freezing, the ruthless wind like a flurry of knives against his skin, but Roman forced himself to grit his teeth and ignore it. If he was cold, he couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be soaking wet.

And Virgil was probably aching and bruised from the compressions…

“Here,” Roman said, heart dropping at the fear and confusion in Virgil’s cloudy eyes. “Put this on, alright? You’re gonna be ok.”

Virgil made another quiet, indecipherable noise but didn’t protest when Roman draped the jacket over his shoulders, and the prince was able to help guide his hands through the slightly too big sleeves.

Any other time, under any other circumstances, Roman imagined seeing the anxious side wearing the prince’s jacket would be something that would leave them both smiling like idiots, Roman left trying in vain to hide his rising blush.

Now, it was just a desperate act to keep Virgil alive.

Roman wrapped his arms around him and pulled Virgil close to his chest, desperate to offer as much warmth as he could, the shivering from the other side still beyond alarming. At least his lips and fingertips no longer held that terrifying shade of blue.

He shut his eyes for a moment, dropping his forehead to rest against Virgil’s soaking wet hair, trying to figure out what on earth he was supposed to do. They needed to move, to get Virgil back home safe as soon as possible, but it was still another forty minutes or so to the Imagination door.

He never should have brought Virgil so far out, not with how unpredictable his realm could be. Roman had just...wanted an excuse to spend more time with the anxious side.

He’d wanted Virgil to see him be the hero. For once, he’d wanted to be the hero in Virgil’s eyes, not just Thomas’s. He’d been so stupid.

They couldn’t stay here, not while the snow continued to fall and the wind showed no sign of stopping.

He’d carry Virgil the entire way if he had to, he knew that for sure. But the longer the storm kept up, the temperature slowly but surely dropping further, the more it was looking like he’d have to. They couldn’t afford to move slowly.

He didn’t know what he’d been silently hoping for. Maybe for the weather to become warm again, or for Virgil to magically get better, to sit up with his skin back to its normal paleness and make a snarky comment about Roman worrying too much.

“Jeez, are you trying to steal my job, Princey?” he’d ask, smirking when Roman sputtered and blushed under the accusation. God, he’d give anything to have Virgil back to normal.

But the sky wasn't clear, Virgil’s declining health only seemed to be getting worse, and Roman knew that the longer he waited, the worse it would only get.

“Hey, we need to keep moving,” Roman said, hoping Virgil could understand him. “You still with me? I’m gonna pick you up, alright?”

He felt Virgil cough again, still a broken rattling sound that sent dread clawing up Roman’s throat, and he watched the anxious side reach up to grab at the material of the jacket wrapped around him.

“M’ here,” he said, and he was clearly trying so hard to speak clearly. “I- I can...I c-can walk.”

“Let me help you,” Roman insisted, even as his heart swelled with pride. He wondered if Virgil recognized his own bravery. “We’ll be home soon.”

He carefully maneuvered one of Virgil’s arms over his shoulder and counted to three under his breath before slowly lifting the anxious side off the ground.

He froze immediately when Virgil let out a strangled gasp, broken up immediately by ragged coughs, his shivering body going tense as his free hand flew to his stomach, trying to wrap his arm around himself.

“F-fuck,” Virgil hissed when he had his breath back, and Roman eased them both back into the snow when his knees started to buckle. “Ow, ow, ow, what...Ro-Roman--”

“I’m here,” Roman said. “I’m right here, Virgil. What hurts?”

“R-r-ribs, and- and I...I don’t...what’re we--?”

“Shoot, uh...I think I did that.” Oh god, he’d hurt Virgil. He’d really messed up everything today, hadn’t he? “I had to give you CPR.”

“You...I- I don’t- why?”

“You fell in the river,” Roman explained, trying not to panic at Virgil’s sudden memory loss. That was normal, right? He was just a little confused, no reason to freak out yet. “Remember? I think the cold really got to you and- and I’m...I’m really sorry. God, I’m so sorry Virgil. I tried to get to you but--”

“Y-you-” Another cough, just as terrifying as all the others. “-you pulled m-me up?”

Roman frowned, hating the bewildered confusion in Virgil’s voice. “I did. Of course I did. But you...you weren’t breathing and I couldn’t find a pulse and I...I thought you were...I thought--”

“Well I- I’m f-fine,” Virgil rasped, dangerously pale and shivering and the farthest thing from fine. “Y-you...you really are my hero huh, P-Princey?”

It was like something curled around Roman’s chest, squeezing at his heart so suddenly he felt a little lightheaded. Virgil’s hero. He wanted so badly to believe that.

But he couldn’t- not when Virgil was trembling in his arms and struggling to form a single sentence.

“I’m getting you home,” Roman vowed, holding the anxious side just a little bit tighter. “I promise you that. Just...let me carry you. Please.”

Virgil slumped, his shaky grip growing almost desperate- despite still being painfully weak- but he nodded against Roman’s chest. “It’s...it’ s-so cold.”

Roman didn’t know how much time had passed since he had put his own jacket on Virgil, but while it hadn’t seemed to do much to improve Virgil’s condition, the lack of protection was definitely getting to Roman.

He found he didn’t mind though, not when Virgil was awake and breathing, aware enough to talk just a little. But he knew it was only a matter of time until their luck ran out.

Roman carefully repositioned the anxious side still curled in his arms so he could better hold him in a bridal carry, shushing him gently when Virgil made a pained sound as the Prince stood, stumbling slightly in the thick snow.

“I know,” Roman said, barely audible over the howling wind. “Just hang in there, Stormcloud. We’ll be home before you know it. We’re so close, Virgil.”

He started forward again, hoping Virgil wasn’t aware enough to catch on to Roman’s own rising anxiety.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #hypothermia #hurt/comfort #writing #fanfiction

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kanonsarchivedblog · 2 years

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Right Where You Left Me

Word Count: 4,600 Characters: Raven, Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Koriand'r/Starfire, Garfield Logan/Beast Boy, Victor Stone/Cyborg, Jun'Ichi Fujihara Ships: DickRae/NightRae, Dickory (mentioned; past) Rating: T Warnings: None Notes: This takes place within an AU that myself and my partner created. It's massive, it expands over three-four decades currently, and involves all of the DCU. It's neat.

Anyways, this was inspired by that scene in Black Widow when Yelena has her small breakdown about her family, and Taylor Swift's Right Where You Left Me. I'm salty about the lack of Raven content these days, and I enjoy putting my favorite ship through pain. [ Psst, you can also read this over here on my ao3! ]

November 1st, 2017 Blüdhaven, New Jersey 6:23 p.m. “Why did the Titans split up?” Jun’Ichi asked as they lay together, the television playing softly in the background. She couldn’t remember exactly what it was that they had been watching- some B-rated horror movie that Netflix produced. Her gaze drifted, settling on the window beside his bed. They weren’t a couple- barely even considered to be friends with benefits. “I ask myself that often,” Raven replied as she sat up, dark tresses spilling over her shoulders in messy waves. It’d been all tied back in twin braids earlier- that is, until it started raining on her. Which is how she ended up here, in Jun’Ichi Fujihara’s apartment on the northside of Bludhaven. “I’d like to say it was bound to happen, but I’m not sure.” “Fighting in the group?” He mused, reaching over to comb his fingers through her hair gently. It’d gotten long; she’d be cutting it soon. “It was time for us to part ways,” she shifted, tugging the shirt she’d borrowed down over her knees- which wasn’t much of a feat, considering how large he was. Really, what did they feed him growing up? Steroids? Pure protein? “It was difficult- more difficult for some than others.” Jun’Ichi hummed, hand dropping from her hair to settle on the bed behind her. They’d met nearly nine months ago after he unintentionally kept her from getting her ass kicked. The perks of having a family name that strikes fear into the hearts of those in the Scene. She’d gotten mixed up in a fight, and he’d been on his way home- one thing led to another, and they swapped numbers. And then they began to text, and then came coffee, and then- Well, she was familiar with his apartment now, and he with hers. “I’m gonna borrow your shower,” Rachel decided as she rose, grimacing at how her hair clung to her. Rainwater wasn’t her friend, especially when her hair was longer like it is now. “Do you mind?” “Go for it,” he waved idly, jade gaze warm, smile soft. “I’ll fix us some dinner?” “Sounds like a plan,” turning on her heel, she nabbed a clean pair of sweatpants she’d left here last weekend and one of his hoodies. They weren’t serious- nowhere near it. Just… Friends, who occasionally were pent up and needed a little bit of help. They hadn’t had sex- no, he wasn’t interested in that, and she was secretly glad. Heavy petting, kisses- those were okay, those were as far as either one were comfortable with going. Someone to fill the void. Three years, two months, sixteen days since the Titans had split. She was twenty-one, now. Dick’s birthday was a month ago; Garfield and Kori’s were two months ago. Vic’s was in five months. No one had reached out to tell her happy birthday- but she didn’t expect it. The bathroom was nice- clean. Jun’Ichi kept his apartment spotless, cleaning daily. Her gaze swept across the skincare products- her own moisturizer, his facial cleanser and beard oil, his electric trimmer, a brush that she used that certainly wasn’t his, but didn’t belong to anyone else. It was a strange limbo they hung in; she knew his ties to the Fujihara crime family, he knew her ties to the Titans, but neither knew the other’s past. Bare basics- that’s what they’d agreed on after that first night. It hadn’t been a one-night stand; it’d been her birthday, and he’d invited her out to get drinks and meet some of his siblings. He had an older sister who was in Gotham’s police force, and a cousin in the same police force. Big family, the Fujihara. They’d accepted her like she was always part of the family. It had been nice; Ayame (his mother) had bought them all dinner- him and her and all of his siblings- at this little hole in the wall hibachi place in Bludhaven. They didn’t sing happy birthday, but they gave her cards, and the sake had been good. She’d met Jun’Ichi on accident when they’d both grabbed the same flannel at a secondhand shop- and they hit it off. Friends. They were friends. Sure, she liked him- but not in the way she’d held feelings for another. Violet gaze settled upon her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was long-

falling below her bust, now. She’d cut it soon. Not now- not with a pair of kitchen scissors. Maybe she’d make an appointment and actually get it styled for once, touch up the purple tips. Nodding, she turned away to face the shower. Jun’Ichi didn’t like showing that he came from money, but his shower certainly showed it- and the apartment. And the building the apartment was in. His downstairs neighbors were fashion designers, apparently. Fancy ones. The kind that have their clothes in Fashion Weeks. The shower- oh, she hated it and loved it. There was only one handle, and it was a trick to get it to the right temperature of almost boiling but not quite. Fiddling with it, she was reminded of the time when Kori broke her shower because she turned the handle too far and it just snapped off. She’d been so confused, so startled, she’d started crying because she thought everyone would be mad at her. Vic had fixed it for her. They all had a good laugh; Raven had revealed the first time she’d used a shower on Earth and had been convinced it took some sort of puzzle to get it to work. That had gotten laughs out of everyone. Those had been good days- happy days in the beginning. The shower head came to life, letting water fall like the storm outside. Sighing, she tugged off the shirt, pants, and underwear, discarding them in a little pile to the side. Next came the multitude of rings she wore, which made a pile on the counter, and the necklaces. The earrings would remain. Stepping under the warm spray, a sigh escaped her lips.

Dick was working fulltime as Nightwing now; were he and Kori still together? The thought sent an odd pang through her, made her chest squeeze tight for a moment. Vic was working for S.T.A.R. Labs and the Justice League now- the major league. Garfield was back with the Doom Patrol- though he helped out the new Titans occasionally. Apparently, Batman shoved another Robin in the role of leader- this one was named Tim.

Dick was the first. Jason Todd, now known as Red Hood, was supposed to have been the second before the Joker took his life and Batman refused to kill him. That was a mess and a half; apparently, Dick and Jason were back in contact with one another. There were other Batkids- too many for her to really remember. A family. Her teeth clenched as she shook her head, trying to keep her thoughts clear. Even so, that night kept trying to force its way to the forefront as she massaged shampoo into her hair. It smelled of lavender; it should have been calming. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ November 18th, 2014 Titans Tower, Manhattan, New York 4:38 p.m. “It’s time.” Dick sighed, arms crossing over his chest. “We all knew this day was coming.” “Did we?” Garfield argued, confused as to why this was suddenly their last night as a team. “Why is it happening now?” “Because someone needs their pride and joy,” Vic muttered, gaze trained on the screen he was working on repairing after it’d been destroyed during their last outing. “Doesn’t he?” “You don’t understand-” Dick tried to argue gently, brow furrowing over his domino mask. “... Gotham needs the help.” “It is not as bad as it seems!” Kori spoke up, hands clasped before her chest as she hovered beside Dick. A nervous antic- one Raven recognized. “We will all still be in touch! With Cyborg joining the League of Justice-” “Justice League,” Dick corrected gently. “Yes! The League of Justice,” Kori repeated, “we will all be in contact still!” “What about Rae?” Garfield asked, drawing attention to the one person within the room who hadn’t spoken yet. “Where does that leave her?” “Wherever she wants to go.” Dick answered simply, not understanding. “There isn't a contract binding her here. She can go wherever. This is a team. We’re friends.” “Not family, though?” Vic asked, looking up to meet Dick’s gaze. “You used to call us that.” “Things- change.” “Do they have to?” Garfield’s voice pitched upwards as panic began to set in. “I don’t think we all have to leave at once- I mean, there’s no reason for that, right? Right, guys?” “I’m being called in tomorrow,” Vic sighs, leaning back against the back of the couch. “But we’ve all known about my leaving for a few months. So what’s the deal with pulling the rug out from under everyone now, Grayson? We ain’t a real family anymore to you?” “This isn't about that.” About what, exactly? Dick wasn’t even sure of the answer himself. His gaze drifts for a moment, studying Raven behind the domino mask- and for some reason, he knows that she can feel him looking at her. She doesn’t speak; her gaze is distant, focused on the windows, lips pressed into a thin line. Closing herself off. Garfield and Victor continue to bicker as Kori tries to keep the peace when Raven slips away silently, footsteps barely making a sound on the floor. Sighing, Nightwing slips out as Kori begins to explain her own plans- what she’ll be doing off-planet for the next year. “Rae?” He calls softly as he opens the door to the roof. This was her favorite place to come when she was troubled. It reminds him of two years ago, when Trigon had made his appearance and attempted to take Raven over, when the world was almost lost had it not been for Raven’s strength- and their teamwork. All of them. “Can we talk?” “What is there to say?” Raven rasped, not turning to face her teammate- but it was too late to stop the tears that flowed down her cheeks. Helpless, abandoned once more by the ones she cared about. “What is there to do? Kori has to return to her work as a literal Princess, Vic has been chosen to be a part of the League, you’ve been called back to Gotham, and Gar has plans to help with the next generation of Titans.” Her shoulders rose in a small shrug as she watched the sun begin to dip beneath the horizon. “We knew this wouldn’t be a team that would last. It was temporary.” “That doesn’t mean this is the end, you know?” He settles in at her side. Idly, he reaches up, removing the domino mask with a sigh. “I don’t have a choice. He has a new Robin in training, but he

needs me- Gotham and Blüdhaven need me,” “I thought you wanted to get out from under his shadow?” Her voice is soft as she turns, her brow furrowed; Dick had grown much taller than she had over the years, causing her to have to look up to meet his gaze. “Why follow him? You know you can have your own life.” “Because I owe him for saving mine.” “Bullshit.” “Rachel-” “No.” She reached up to drag her fingers through her hair. It’s gotten longer, Dick noticed- falling beyond her shoulders. “No, don’t Rachel me. You could have a life of your own. You don’t owe anyone anything!” “I wish it was that easy.” He took a step closer, reaching out with a gloved hand to catch her wrist gently. “I wish it was as easy as just hanging up the mask and uniform and walking away from all of this.” The way his voice cracked had Raven wincing. “Are we too young for this?” She asked, brow furrowing as her gaze settled on his hand, how his fingers inch up her palm to entwine with her own fingers. “We were just kids when we started this, thrust into a world that we could only barely begin to understand.” “But we aren’t kids anymore.” Dick’s voice had softened, barely above a whisper as he studied her; the setting sun painted her skin in shades of gold, giving the lavender of her gaze flecks of fire. “We haven’t been kids for a while.” “No, we haven’t.” She swallowed roughly, unable to tear her gaze away from his own, even as tears filled her own. “This is it, huh? The end of the first Titans team.” “Not the end- maybe just a pause.” “A lull in a conversation.” His lips quirked into a smile- boyish, charming, full of light and love and laughter. It made her heart ache. She could feel something beneath the surface in that moment, howling to be let free. But he pushed it away, pushed it down the same moment he pulled his hand from her own. “I’ll be seeing you around, yeah?” No, you won’t. “Sure,” she lied, giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He hesitated for a moment longer, lips parting as if he were going to speak. “Raven, I-” “There you two are!” Kori called, making Raven jump and Dick to shove his mask over his eyes quickly. Security blanket- she understood that too well. “We are ordering pizza! One last dinner together! Come, please!” Kori took hold of Dick’s hand, pulling him close while her hand hovered over Raven’s shoulder- not touching without permission. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ The water shut off as she turned the handles to the right, leaving her standing in the steam-filled bathroom. She could hear Jun’Ichi singing along to a song on the radio, the scent of whatever it was he was cooking reaching beginning to invade the bathroom. Nabbing a towel, she stepped out and began to dry off. Her fingers twitched, causing the shower door to close behind her and for the fan to turn on, drawing the steam up and away. Her phone buzzed idly with a notification. Brow raising, she stepped carefully over, not wanting to slip on the damp tile. Passcode quickly tapped in, her phone unlocked to reveal a new message had been delivered. Curiosity getting the best of her, she tapped on the messages icon, only to find a familiar name popped up. Nightwing. ‘Are you in Blüdhaven?’ The text read. Her heart hammered in her chest as she stared at the letters. It had been delivered fifteen minutes ago, five minutes after she’d started her shower. ‘Currently. Why?’ She responded quickly, setting her phone aside to grab her toiletry bag. She needed to work some argan oil in before she could dry her hair; the north was not kind to her hair, surprisingly. She blames the water for it. Fingers combing through dark locks, she pondered the reason as to why he would reach out to her now of all times. Her phone buzzed once with a notification. ‘Wanna grab coffee sometime? :^)’. The message was simple, innocent. Most likely just catching up, touching base again now that she was back in the States. ‘Sure. Tomorrow morning?’ She turned away as she grabbed Jun’Ichi’s hair dryer. Flipping over, she did a quick rough-dry of her hair, making sure

that the bottom layer was dry before flipping her hair back over and turning off the hair dryer. The rest could air dry- which wouldn’t take very long, now. The next text she receives is a simple smiley face, the conversation ended- for now. Shaking her head, she nabbed her clothes that had been politely set just inside of the door, freshly dried and still holding warmth. Tugging the sweater and leggings on, she grabbed hold of her phone and slipped out, leaving the door cracked to help the steam escape. “Hope you’re hungry,” Jun’Ichi called as she plopped onto the couch. “I made plenty for you to take when you head home.” “Thanks,” Raven called back, gaze trained on her phone’s black screen. How did he know she was back? She hadn’t done any work recently, especially not here. The last time she’d made headlines had been two months ago in Scotland when she fixed John Constantine’s fuck up. Shaking her head, she set her phone down and rose, making her way to the kitchen. “What’d you make?” “Miso soup, edamame, and grilled salmon on a bed of rice.” He nodded towards the timer on the microwave; five more minutes. “Comfort food for a cold, rainy day in Gotham. It’s what my mom would make when we were younger.” “That must’ve been nice,” Raven plucked an edamame from the bowl and idly bit down on the pod, prompting for a bean to break free. “Hungry?” He asked again, glancing down at her. Something was up- but it wasn’t his place to ask. “Famished.” Raven replied with a small smile as she turned to grab dishes down. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ November 2nd, 2017 Blüdhaven, New Jersey 9:15 a.m. The coffee shop was quiet for a Tuesday morning. Black nails tapped a nervous rhythm on the top of the table, an old habit that could never be truly broken. Violet gaze glanced down to her phone, studying the blank screen. Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t notice that her guest had appeared until the chair across from her was being pulled free. Jolting, she looked up, eyes widening in surprise at the sight, meeting equally wide, surprised amber eyes. “Raven,” Dick Grayson greeted, lips twitching up into a small smile- shy, boyish. “It’s been a while.” That smile still made her heart skip a beat. Damn him. Damn Dick Grayson. “Three years, two months, seventeen days,” Raven replied, shifting to settle into her seat, arms wrapping idly around herself. The sweater she wore hung off of one shoulder, big and worn and warm, a deep navy shade. “If you wanted to be exact.” A chuckle escaped the vigilante. “Right,” his hand raised to rub at the back of his neck, ruffling the hair that had grown out- shaggy. “How are you?” “I’m good- just got back a few months ago from traveling.” He looked older, now- the baby fat having left his face, replaced with a sharp jawline and smooth skin. “How’ve you been? How’s Kori?” Something strange occurred, then- a grimace that he tried to cover, but the anxiety that flowed off of him at the mention of the Tameranian princess was unmistakable. “She’s good- I’m good. Busy.” “So I’ve heard. You’re all over the news, you know,” idly, she raised the cup of chamomile to her lips, sipping idly. “Boy wonder and all, covering Blüdhaven all by his lonesome.” “I’ve got it handled,” he shrugs, though his gaze wanders to the side, as if he didn’t want to talk about this. Anxious. “It’s not the… Worst.” “Have you heard from any of the others?” Why was Dick so nervous? That was new; he wasn’t the kind of person to get nervous about nothing. Then again, he used to get nervous anytime Koriand’r would sit too close. He perked up at that, brown gaze warm as he nodded. “Yeah, I talk to Vic occasionally- he’s working with dad now, part of the League. Garth’s over in California, helping with the Doom Patrol, apparently- sounds like he and Vic might, uh, be… Close.” His cheeks colored a rosy tone that got a soft laugh out of Raven. “What about you? Heard from anyone recently?” “Mhm,” she hummed, sipping her tea for a moment, giving Dick time to really look her over. She’d gained weight- not that that was a bad thing! She looked

healthy, now- her skin holding color, her cheeks rosy. She no longer held shadows in the hollows of her cheeks or beneath her eyes. Her hair had gotten long- or, well, longer than it ever was when they were a team. She smiled easier, now, too- as if she were more at peace with herself. “Roy’s back in Gotham, actually. I met with him a few days ago.” “Is he?” Roy Harper- he hadn’t talked to him in a little over two years, after they had a fallout when he was just getting out of rehab. When Dick hadn’t believed him. “How’s he doing?” “He looks good. Healthy, now- clean for a few years, officially sober for a little over three. He’s got custody of Lian, now.” Lian Harper-Nguyen, the surprise child that he hadn’t anticipated. “I’m helping him with some internal troubles.” “Therapy?” “Of sorts. I refer to it as Shadow Work, but it is a form of therapy- healing the darker parts of yourself that you’ve left unattended for far too long.” She sets the cup down gently, drawing Dick’s attention to her hands. Her nails had grown- or perhaps they were a set- filed into points, painted a glossy black. She wore rings, now, too. A lot of rings. “Gar is doing well. I spoke to him a few weeks back.” “Yeah?” Gar, now going by the moniker of Tempest- a former teammate, and someone who had been interested in Raven. “How’s Atlantis?” “Atlantis is good, as is Kaldur'ahm. Did you know they are in a relationship?” “Really? Huh- I had no idea. Good for them!” A silence fell over the pair in that moment, Raven’s gaze settling on the table as Dick settled his chin on his palm, smile softening. She really did look good. It’s amazing how much a person can change in a few years. Her gaze flickered up, violet meeting umber, and settled there. He felt a tug for a moment- not a physical one, but a tug on that old soul bond she’d created with him. It was warm, familiar, comforting. “Why did you want to meet, Dick?” She finally asked, head tilting slightly, reminiscent of a bird. “Why did you text me?” “I heard you were in the neighborhood.” He admitted, sitting straighter, brow furrowing. “And I… Wanted to catch up.” “After three years of radio silence?” The words were soft, yet held such an icy, bitter tone that it reminded him of the cold December wind. He grimaced; it had been that long, hadn’t it? “Kind of shitty to do that, if you ask me.” “I didn’t know how to get a hold of you,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize that everyone else had cut contact, too.” “Not everyone. Gar kept contact- but he was about the only one.” Until Roy. He’d revealed that he and Dick had also fought. The circumstanced had been messy; they hadn’t made up, not yet, but he wants to. He’d been working with Jason- and Koriand’r, apparently. “Why isn’t Kori working with you?” “How did you know that?” He snapped, only to immediately recoil. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…” “That answers everything.” Raven rolled her eyes as she grabbed her cup. “You need to work on yourself before you try to reach out to those you’ve wronged, Richard Grayson.” She rose with a smooth movement, skirt swirling about her legs. Without a further word, she began to make her way to the door. Dick floundered for a moment before he grabbed his coffee and took off after her. “Raven, please- wait! Wait up!” He slipped out of the door as she paused, her brow furrowed. Snow had begun to fall, the flakes big and fluffy. Not good for snowballs, a part of him whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I left. I’m sorry that you were left alone and no one was there for you. I’m sorry that I failed as a leader and a friend,” the words spilled out in a rush as her eyes widened. “I’m sorry that I left you on the rooftop that night. I’m sorry for breaking your heart, Raven.” She swallowed roughly, head tilting to the side as she squeezed her eyes shut- a meager attempt at staunching the tears that threatened to fall. “Don’t say that. Don’t- you don’t get to just come back into my life and apologize like this. Do you know that the Titans were the only family I had for years? You all were my family-

I loved each and every member. And you all left me!” She exclaimed, hands raising. She’d tossed her tea the moment she’d gone outside. “I was left alone! The tower cleared out, and I was alone, and no one came back!” Her voice cracked on back, tears spilling over. Mascara began to run down her cheeks, much to her annoyance. “I stayed there, dust collecting, while everyone else moved on. I stayed right where you left me.” Dick fell silent, his heart hammering in his chest at the realization. Seeing her cry like this- he went to reach out, only for her to take a step back. His hand hung in the space between them for a moment longer before it fell. “Raven, I’m sorry.” “It’s fine. I’m going home.” She turned on her heel, beginning to walk away before calling over her shoulder, “Call me when you’ve got your own shit figured out, Grayson. Get out from under his shadow and be your own god damn man.” She turned down an alleyway, and in another moment, was gone- portal opened and closed with adept swiftness, a practiced movement that she’d worked on for years to perfect. Dick stood in the middle of the sidewalk, coffee held limply in one hand, the other hand raised to his mouth as her words sank into him, stabbing like knives heated with a cooking torch. What had he done? What had he done to Raven? ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Novemeber 6th, 2017 Blüdhaven, New Jersey 4:19 p.m.

Her apartment was a safe space, her haven. She was settled on the couch, wrapped up in a massive hoodie that Roy had left behind. He’d be back in a few days after finishing the assignment she’d given him. He was home in Oljato at the moment.

Her mind drifted as her fountain pen hovered over the page of her journal. The meeting with Dick had been four days ago. She’d seen no one since then, telling Jun’Ichi that she was busy with research. Her brow furrows as the journal and pen settle on the table. She couldn’t focus, not like this.

Sighing, she unfurled her legs from beneath herself, only to pause at the feeling of foreign energy approaching her door. Quietly walking to the door, she listened for a moment before a knock sounded. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. Creeping to the door, she cracked it open. “Can I help you?”

The sound of a smooth, feminine voice met her ears- lightly accented. Arabic? Egyptian? Somewhere within the region, the lilt originated from. “I do hope I’ve got the right apartment. Raven, yes?”

“Depends. Who are you?” The woman stepped back. Raven felt her heart fall still for a moment as realization dawned. The flowing sleeves, the leotard, the veil, the boots. “My name is Tombstone. May I come in?” Tombstone, famed sorceress and summoner. The new Sorcerer Supreme. The locks undid themselves quickly as Raven stepped back, the door swinging open. “Of course. Why are you… here?” “Well,” she stepped in slowly, towering over Raven. “I was hoping I could speak to you about a job opportunity. Have you heard about the Justice League Dark?” Raven felt her heart jumpstart in that moment. Perhaps coming back to Blüdhaven hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

#raven #dickrae #dick grayson #teen titans #titans #dceu #garfield logan #koriand'r #victor stone #cyborg #starfire #robin #nightwing #dickory #angst #no warnings apply #m's scribbles

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teacupfulofstarshine · 3 years

Text

fly high!!

summary: logan has carried the nickname of "ice king" with him since middle school. he has never successfully meshed with a team before. his opponents think him incapable of growth.

his opponents are wrong, and their mistakes carry a heavy price.

(OR: a haikyuu!! au; one game featuring logan the genius setter and his team)

a/n: rewatched haikyuu!! got inspired. here's 3.5k! HUGE huge thank you to josie ( @flamingfawkes ) for beta reading! title comes from haikyuu!! s2 opening 2

CW: trash-talking, insults, minor injury/blood mention, references to past mistakes, making assumptions based on past actions, swearing, nonspecific v-mit mention

wordcount: ~3.5k

read it on ao3!!!

“Hey, isn’t that the crazy setter from that middle school tournament last year?”

“Yeah, they called him the Ice King!”

“Whoa, what a cool nickname!”

“Not so cool if you’re on the court with him. I hear his teammates kicked him out of his last game because he’s incapable of being a team player.”

“No wonder he ended up at that garbage school - I bet none of the good schools would take him!”

“How stupid does that team have to -”

“Hey!” Remus barks loudly, jerking his chin up and leering at the suddenly-terrified players. “You got somethin’ to say about my teammate, you absolute rat bastard -”

“Remus!” Thomas grabs the libero by his collar and picks him up like a drowned cat. “I apologize for my teammate. He gets a bit . . . overzealous at times. Remus, apologize.”

“Go to hell!” Remus says cheerfully, twisting around to try and lick Thomas’s arm. Thomas drops him in disgust, but Remus lands like a cat and rolls to his feet, bouncing away with a cackle.

“What was that all about?” Roman asks. Remus takes his bag back and slings it over his shoulder, looking up at his twin. “I thought we talked about causing trouble at tournaments - they’re going to kick you out, and we don’t have a backup libero anymore.”

“People were being assholes about Logan. You think I can just let that slide?” Remus bares his teeth, and Roman levels a glare at the opposing players.

“Oh, well in that case,” he mutters, pushing up his sleeves. Before either of them can respond, Logan reaches out and grips their shoulders.

“Please do not get into fights on my account.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re not going to get in them on your own account, are you?” Remus says. “You can pretend you don’t have feelings all you want, Logan, I know the shit they say bothers you.” Logan flinches, just barely, and Remus reaches up to pat at his shoulder. “You’re not alone anymore, Logan. You don’t have to fight these battles on your own. We’re not going to let them shit-talk you and get away with it.”

“I might not be as willing to fistfight people for your honor as my deviant brother over here, but I know for a fact that the whole team shares his sentiments. You’re not the person you were in that middle school tournament.” Roman places his hand over Logan’s, and Logan offers him a small smile.

“Are we fighting people?” Janus asks. “Remus, darling, you know we’re not supposed to do that in uniform. What if you get blood on it? I know you didn’t pack a spare, and I won’t have time to launder it before our game. Besides, you know better than to make threats where there are witnesses with recording equipment present.”

Remus slips out of Logan’s grip and bounces off towards the court, chattering idly to Janus and waving his hands around. Thomas turns back to them, setting a hand on Logan’s shoulder.

“You okay?"

“I am adequate.”

“Not what he asked you,” Roman says, shoulder-checking Logan as they keep walking.

“I know what people say about me. I am aware of the toll my past behaviors took on my working relationships with my team. I am . . . working to be better than I was, but I am not sure I have made much progress.”

“You’re already loads better than you were,” Roman says. “You’ve got a great eye for tosses, and you’re learning to talk to the rest of us. We’re getting there. We are.”

Logan blinks, looking back and forth. “Where’s Virgil?”

“Probably in the bathroom, trying not to throw up.” Logan looks alarmed, which is to say that his eyes widen slightly. “Don’t worry, he usually doesn’t. He just has nerves that get the better of him, so he takes some alone time in the bathroom to calm himself down.”

Virgil rejoins them at the doors of the gymnasium, looking pale and faintly green. “You okay?” Thomas asks. Virgil nods, winding a stray lock of hair around his finger. “It’s gonna be alright. You’ve been working on that pinch serve for how long now?”

“Months, but it could still go wrong, it -”

“It won’t. You’re called a pinch server for a reason, Virgil. We bring you in when we’re in a pinch.”

“Which puts even more pressure on me to not mess up!”

“You will be fine,” Logan says. He turns around, peering at Virgil through his sports glasses. “I have faith in you. You are more than your serves - you are also an excellent blocker with swift reflexes. You are a multi-purpose tool, and I will utilize you to the best of my ability.”

Virgil stares at him, mouth slightly open, and Logan blinks, leaning back, eyebrows creasing. “Was - that an insensitive remark? I meant no disrespect.”

Virgil blinks at him, once, and then laughs, gently socking Logan in the arm. “Maybe other people would have found it insensitive, but I found it comforting. Thanks, Lo.” Logan crinkles his eyes and curves the corner of his mouth up, gently bonking his forehead against Virgil’s shoulder.

*~*~*~*~*

“I’m sorry!” Roman sprints across the court and pulls Janus to his feet. “I hit you in the face, are you alright?”

“I’ll never recover,” Janus says, rubbing his face. “Am I bleeding?”

“Not that I can see.”

“Still have all my teeth?”

“Yep.”

“Then I’ll be fine.”

“You really gotta get better at receives, Jan!” Remus laughs.

“And why would I do that when I have my darling libero looking out for me?” Remus grins, pleased, and Janus ruffles his hair fondly.

“Can you please not be gross with my brother right the fuck in front of me?”

Janus raises a single eyebrow at him before leaning down and very deliberately sliding his tongue into Remus’s mouth. “What the fuck, I officially retract my apology for hitting you in the face, I’m done, I’m leaving, goodbye -”

“That’s an . . . unusual warmup strategy,” the opposing captain tells Thomas.

“They’re unusual players,” Thomas says.

*~*~*~*~*

“Thomas, nice serve!”

Thomas spins the ball between his hands, takes a deep breath, tosses it in the air, slams it forward. “Damn it - straight to their libero!”

“It’s a quick from the left! Janus, that’s you -”

“On it!”

“Nice one-touch - pick it up!”

“Remus -”

“Got it!”

Logan turns, runs, leaps up into position, scans over the team. Where are the blockers - where are the spikers - what’s the position - who can he use - what can he do -

“Logan, to the ace!”

“Number two, number two!”

Roman jumps on the left, Janus on the right, and coming from the back row - the pipe, he can do it, where is Thomas, he’s running from the back, he’s in the air, twist lift and set -

Thomas slams it straight past the opposing blockers and hits cleanly. The referee blows her whistle, and the score changes. One point in their favor.

“Logan, I wanted a toss!” Roman complains. Logan squints at him - is he really upset? No, his eyes are crinkled like when he laughs at Remus’s stupid jokes, and he shows Logan a thumbs-up.

“You can have the next one,” Logan says.

“Telegraphing your next move so loudly? I guess the Ice King has lost his touch,” Number Eight calls. Remus begins snarling from the back row, but Logan turns a cool stare at his opponent.

“I have more than one weapon in my arsenal.”

Number Eight scoffs, but Logan just turns away. “Thomas,” he says. Thomas looks at him, and Logan lifts his hands, signing quickly. Setter-back-row. Aim-receive-9. Thomas nods, taking the volleyball again.

Remy touches Emile’s shoulder gently. When he turns to look, Remy nods at Logan and Thomas. “What is he saying?”

Emile turns more fully towards him. “Their setter is in the back row. He’s not allowed to move to the front row until after the serve, so there’s a moment of confusion where he has to run in front of someone. If you aim a serve correctly, there’s a delay, which can mess up even the strongest receiver.”

Sure enough, the setter darts in front of Number Nine, and the receive goes flying out of bounds.

“He really is something else, isn’t he?” Remy asks.

“Logan? Yeah, he’s got great analytical skills, and they’re fast to boot. His problem is communication, but this team . . . it’s not gonna let him get away with being silent for long.”

Thomas serves again, and they receive it more cleanly. The set goes up, the spike goes down, and Remus dives to catch it. “Nice receive!” Logan moves into position, his hands go up, Roman gets into position and jumps, the blockers move in front of him, and Logan shifts at the last second and dumps the ball right in front of the net.

Number Eight glares at him again. Logan stares back impassively. “Was that supposed to impress me, Ice King?"

“Was that supposed to intimidate me . . .” Is Logan supposed to insult him back? How would Remus insult him? He will never understand the art of trash talking someone. “For someone playing a team sport, you seem to be incredibly self-centered right now.”

Number Eight scoffs at him and turns away; Logan just blinks.

“Was he trying to insult me?” he asks Roman.

“Probably,” Roman says.

“Oh. Was I supposed to insult him back?”

Roman grins at him, sharp and bloodthirsty. “Let your tosses insult that pesky motherfucker. Don’t be afraid to rely on me to help you, hmm?”

Logan nods. “As you wish.”

Remus has to dive for the next receive, and it comes off-kilter. “Sorry!”

Nothing to apologize for, Logan thinks. You got the ball in the air. That’s all I need.

Roman slams the ball past two blockers without even trying.

*~*~*~*~*

They take the first set narrowly, 25-20. Their opponents attack with a vengeance in the second set, and it isn’t long before the player-swap whistle blows and Virgil steps up to serve.

Logan hands him the ball; their fingers overlap. Virgil looks at him, and Logan looks back, crinkling his eyes. “You can do this,” he says, voice low. “They underestimate you the way they underestimate me. I can see it in their eyes. Show them why that is a mistake.”

Virgil blinks at him, taking the ball. “You got it, Lo.”

“What’s he gonna do?” Number Eight laughs. Logan returns to his front line position next to Janus.

“You know, you really run your mouth quite a bit for someone who has yet to show me anything truly impressive,” Janus drawls. Number Eight looks like he wants to flip him off, but before he can, Virgil serves.

“It’s out!”

Number Eight smirks, chin up, but Logan doesn’t look at him. He keeps watching the ball as it travels, travels, wavers, wobbles, and drops to the court, just within the line.

The opposing team turns to stare in shock as the whistle blows.

“Nice serve!” Remus and Roman yell, sprinting over to slap their hands against Virgil’s in victory.

“I knew all that practice was gonna pay off!”

“You’re amazing!”

“Guys, it’s just one point,” Virgil says, rubbing the back of his neck. His face has a pleased flush.

“It’s one more point than we had!” Remus says. “One point is the beginning - it’s all we need! Now go out and get us one more!”

Virgil serves, again and again, and racks up three more points before the opposing team figures out what to do with his jump float serve.

*~*~*~*~*

Not all blocks are equal, Janus thinks. The goal is not always to shut the ball down. Sometimes, a wall is not possible.

Janus is not a tall middle blocker; he isn’t nearly as short as Remus is, but he’s only average height. He cannot shut down the opposing spikers the way that someone else might. He hears what people say when they see him take position.

How can he possibly be a middle blocker with that height?

Aim for the middle, he’s too short to make any difference!

Even if he jumps, he can’t stop you!

They are all fools.

Janus does not need to stop a ball to block effectively.

He jumps, and Number Six smirks at him, aiming right for him. Janus can see Remus moving behind him from the corner of his eye, and he smirks right back at Number Six.

I don’t have to stop your spike to shut you down.

He shifts his fingers, and the ball bounces off of them. “A soft block?!” Number Six shouts. Janus hears the ball make contact with Remus’s forearms, and he’s running when he lands. By the time Logan’s hands are in the air, Janus is all the way at the other side of the net, and he swings his hand as though he’s going to slam the ball down. Number Six jumps in front of him, snarling, and Janus shifts to the tips of his fingers again and feints.

The ball drops to the court just behind Number Six, the referee’s whistle blows, and Janus lands. “Was the toss alright?” Logan asks, jogging over. “Do you need me to make any adjustments for you?” Janus notices the way his eyes widen, as though he’s afraid he’ll get yelled at, and he smiles. It’s genuine; despite the popular misconception, he is capable of those.

“It was wonderful,” he says. “Nice toss, Logan.”

Logan smiles up at him. “Nice feint!”

“Damn it!” Number Six shouts. Janus turns to him and smiles with all his teeth, no mirth behind it.

You underestimate me at your own peril.

*~*~*~*~*

Their opponents call a time-out, and Logan grabs his water bottle. Remus slaps him on the back before he has a chance to take a sip. “Logan!”

Logan turns, startled, and Remus grins up at him. “You’re on the back row when we go in, right?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t run forward.”

“What?”

“Don’t move forward to set. Focus on getting the cleanest possible receive you can, okay? Just get it into the air.”

“If I receive, I cannot set,” Logan says. “I do not understand.”

Remus drops his grin, showing Logan his ‘I’m-being-serious’ hand sign. “I know you’re a genius setter, but trust me, Logan. My brother and I have a trick or two up our sleeves. It’ll be okay.”

Logan blinks at him. “I am unsure of this plan.” Remus just keeps watching him. “However . . . I trust you. I trust my team. If you say that you can handle it, then you can.” Remus grins at him, holding up his hands for a high ten. Logan tucks his bottle between his legs and high-tens him back.

Before they step back onto the court, Remus grabs Roman’s wrist. “Wh -”

“I told Logan to focus on receiving this next spike.” Roman turns to look at him.

“What the hell - why would you do that?”

“He’s all the way in the back row! And it must be tiring, setting all those balls one after another. Don’t you think it’s Wonder Twin time?” Roman’s expression changes from angry to joyous in an instant.

“You know what? You’re absolutely right.”

The serve comes in, and Logan shifts into a receiving stance. Remus and Roman make eye contact across the court, and Roman’s eyes flick to the left. Remus nods. Logan receives the ball cleanly. “Nice receive!”

“Their setter received it!” Number Two yells. “They’re limited!”

Not on my watch, motherfucker, Remus grins. He sprints forward, touches down right in front of the attack line, jumps, twists, and lifts his hands. Roman heads for the left, all three blockers surge up to meet him, and then he pivots and sprints to the center. Remus tosses, Roman jumps, and the ball slams down onto the opponent’s court.

Remus, who isn’t used to being in the air, lands on his ass, but he rolls to his feet quickly. “Take that, you son of a -”

“Remus!” Thomas snaps. Roman sprints back and gives him a high ten, grinning, and Logan looks at him.

“You can set?”

“I’m better at receiving, and I’m not really tall enough to play any position other than libero. But that doesn’t mean you’ve seen my whole bag of tricks! I can set in a pinch, as long as I jump from behind that attack line, but I really only practice setting for Roman, so I don’t do it for anyone else.”

Logan blinks, and then his face breaks out into a wide, unrestrained grin, one hand flapping rapidly at his side. “You’re so cool!” he bursts. “That’s amazing, that’s so so cool!”

Remus grins, flushing under the praise. “I know! I am amazing, aren’t I? Marvel at my power!”

“Don’t compliment him like you mean it, Logan, he’s gonna get a big head!” Roman scolds. Remus sticks his tongue out, and Logan laughs.

*~*~*~*~*

Logan lifts his hands to the back of his head, like he’s covering it against the serve. He shifts his fingers to signal: synchronized attack.

The serve goes up, clean receive, which means the most likely course is -

“Center attack!” Logan shouts. Number Three scoffs as his center straight comes down right against Remus’s waiting hands.

“It’s all yours, Logan!”

All four of them move in unison - Virgil, Janus, Roman, Thomas, all running forward in unison. Logan shifts, watches the confusion of the blockers, lifts his hands. The toss that will work the best, the toss that can score a point, the spiker who will carry the momentum of this match is -

“Watch out, it’s number 13!”

Virgil slams a cut shot across three blockers and scores without breaking a sweat. “Unlucky,” he smirks, fistbumping Janus.

*~*~*~*~*

The second set comes to a deuce, and they call a time out. “We need to gain a two-point lead to take this match, but don’t get so caught up in the idea of the next point that you miss the one in front of you. Keep your focus in the moment, not the future. Understand?”

“Yes!”

Logan tosses the ball into the air, jumps, and serves. As the other team receives, he grabs Roman’s shirt. “Roman, instead of a wall, try an umbrella!”

“What?”

Roman’s eyes widen in recognition as they jump to block the spike, deflecting it towards the back. “Remus!” Thomas shouts.

“I got it - it’s up!”

“Roman!” Logan shouts, turning to set.

“Thanks for the heads-up, Ice King!” Number Eight laughs. All three blockers converge on Roman, who jumps and bounces the ball off the block.

“What?!”

“A rebound?!”

“Remus, pick it up!” Roman shouts.

“I got it!”

“Come on, let’s go!”

Roman and Janus jump at the net, but Logan is already setting for the pipe. Thomas jumps from the back, slams the ball past the block, and scores.

“Nice kill!”

“You couldn’t use lingo that’s a little more clear next time?” Roman complains

“Why would I need to? You understood what I meant, didn’t you?”

Roman ruffles his hair, and Logan swats at his arm. “Hey, that hurts, don’t do that!” Roman just laughs and keeps going.

*~*~*~*~*

The rally has been going for almost two minutes now, the ball constantly in the air, and the exhaustion is setting in. They have the lead by one point, and they only need one more to take the match. “Come on, come on!”

“They’re gonna use the ace! Cover Number Three!”

Roman jumps, Logan’s hands go up, the blockers move to cover Roman, and Logan dumps the ball. Number Ten dives for it, but it drops to the ground right in front of him.

They take their second set, and the match, 26-24.

*~*~*~*~*

Patton tucks his manager notebook into his bag and starts handing out water bottles. “You were all amazing! Logan, I think that’s the most you’ve communicated in a match, and it really showed!”

Logan takes the water bottle, nodding. “It took me a while to learn how to communicate most effectively with my teammates. I was trying to carry the entire weight of the team on my shoulders as the setter. But I . . . am not the only one on my team thinking. I can give options, and trust that they will utilize those options effectively.”

“That’s right!” Remus crows, slapping his back. “We have brains too, Logan!”

“The rest of us, maybe. You? Debatable,” Virgil says. Remus immediately tackles him to the court.

“Are you trying to injure me?” Virgil shrieks. Roman rolls his eyes and sighs.

“I do not know how you put up with him on a regular basis, I truly do not,” Logan sighs.

“It’s a miracle I haven’t suffocated him in his sleep, it really is.”

*~*~*~*~*

The bus ride home is quiet. “I’m sorry,” Logan says.

Virgil passes him an earbud. “What do you mean?”

“I did not toss to you nearly as much as I have in previous and practice games when you were on the court.”

“No need to apologize for that, man. I wasn’t in as much as normal, and you utilized the rest of the team to the best of your ability. And we won, didn’t we? I’m not offended, I’m not gonna break up with you over it.”

Logan smiles, and Virgil tilts his head to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Take your post-tournament nap, Popsicle. We gotta build up our strength for tomorrow.”

Logan puts the earbud in, leans his head against Virgil’s shoulder; Virgil leans against him in turn, and they’re asleep before the bus crests the next hill.

#starshinewrites #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #thomas sanders #platonic TDRLAP #platonic creativitwins #background analogical #background dukeceit

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achliegh · 3 years

Text

Speak No Evil (Rewrite)

O’Knutzy Kink Exploration #2

Gag

Beta: @punkkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, Kinks, Gag

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Leo was out getting groceries, Finn was pinned to the couch, Logan was sitting on him, pinning his lover's hands beneath his knees while texting Leo. Finn groans as Logan grinds against his hard cock while Logan bites his lip, holding back his own sounds. How they got in this position was a mystery. Before Leo left they were just napping on the couch together.

Then again cuddling does make Logan horny.

Sunshine

You: Let's try that thing tonight.

Sunshine: Which one? Sexy thing or food thing?

You: Sexy thing

Sunshine: I’m omw home

Sunshine: Start without me

Logan smirks at his phone then tosses it on the floor, not even caring if the screen has cracked. Leaning down, Logan catches Finn’s lips in a fiery kiss, licking into his mouth, running his hands up and down Finn’s chest; he feels Finn try to get his hands out from under Logan’s knees. Logan pulls away a little to look into Finn’s bronze eyes, smiling a little as he gives his lower lip a small nip. Lifting himself up a bit to be able to wiggle his hands out from under Logan’s knees. Pulling Logan back in for more kisses he feels Logan start to become less dominant and aggressive. Almost losing his edge.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, mon joli mannequin” He sees Finn blush from the French dripping from his tongue and sits up. Next thing he knows he is being carried over Finn’s shoulder to the bedroom. Laughing as he is jostled around he slaps Finn’s butt and kicks a little when Finn retaliates by pinching his side.

“I bet you can’t wait to be dicked down by me, huh?” Finn tosses Logan on the bed and begins to strip himself. Logan laughs and finally gets undressed. Climbing over Logan, bracketing him in with his hands by his head and his knees on either side of his thighs. He uses one hand to support himself and runs his thumb over Logan's cheek bone just soaking in his beauty. “You’re stunning” Logan pulls him down into a kiss as his cheeks heat up.

Logan flips them over and reaches over to the nightstand to grab the lube. He pulls away and puts the bottle into Finn’s hands smiling shyly. Finn left as though he might simply pass away.

“Want me to prep you? Or do you have some plan that I don’t know about?” Finn narrows his eyes at him as he sits up with Logan still in his lap. The lack of answer he gets besides a look and a bit of a lip meant ‘yes’. He reaches down with lubed fingers to trace Logan's entrance, he feels a little smug when Logan shivers and grips his shoulders. Finn starts leaving light, almost non-existent, kisses and nips to his neck and shoulder, pushing one digit in, his stomach rolling with excitement at the gasp that is punched out of Logan. His lover gets louder and his kisses get more desperate as he preps him until he is ready.

Logan comes out of his daze just long enough to grab Finn's hands and pin him back to the bed. Breathing heavily as he smirks at his lover.

“How do you feel about me riding you, but you can’t touch me?” Thinking for a moment Finn is going through his mind trying to figure out if he wants to try it. He had never been restrained before, Leo had tried it and almost broke the headboard with how much he wanted to touch the other two, Logan is extremely fond of it but sometimes he wants to have the control. He nodded slowly after a minute and the smile it produces from Logan should absolutely be illegal. “Okay, remember you can get out at any time, we can stop at any time… Try not to break the headboard” That pulls a laugh from both of them as Logan moves to attach his hands to the headboard. It was tight but not uncomfortable, he pulled a little to remind himself that he couldn’t touch Logan and that was something he loved. He looked into those sweet pea green eyes and relaxed. “Remember the safeword?” Finn nods and groans as Logan moves so his cock is sliding against Logan's entrance.

“Is this your plan? You just wanted to tie me up?” His breath hitches as Logan sinks down on him, Logan's eyes scrunched closed and his nails dig into Finn's chest. “You wanted to be in control today, just wait until Leo comes home and sees what a naughty little thing you’ve been- fuck” He snaps his hips up to meet Logans hips, Logan makes an embarrassingly cute sound and glares at him with out any fire.

“Since you can’t touch me are you just gonna talk your way through this?” He lifts his arms over his head as he sets a rhythm of fucking himself on Finn and arches his back as his hands grip his own hair. “If that is gonna happen I will gag you-”

“Well isn't this a sight to come home to.” Leo was leaning against the door frame watching Logan bounce on Finn, who he managed to get tied up, much to Leo’s amusement. “Started without me again?” He hears Logan huff an annoyed breath as he reaches out for Leo. Walking forward he takes his hand and kisses his hand.

“You said I could so I did, can we start now before I cum?” Logan shifted a little to look at Leo and cried out in pleasure as he hit his prostate. Leo looks over to Finn who is looking a little dazed and sweaty. Trying to figure out what they mean by getting started.

“You mean this isn’t what you planned?” He looks at Logan who is gone with fucking himself. Shaking his head Logan pulls a now naked Leo into a heated kiss and grips his hair and uses it to make sure Leo doesn’t pull away. Leo is feeling around on the bed for the bottle of lube humming when he finds it. “Fuck, you guys are so hot, I can’t wait to see what you sexy idiots came up with. Fuck I want to touc-” His eyes widen as something is stuffed into his mouth keeping him from talking, his breath hitches and he whines tugging on the restraints a bit.

“Three tugs on the restraints and we will stop, okay?” Leo is breathing hard climbing behind Logan, running a hand up Finn’s thigh and one up Logan's side. “I needed to put a pair of boxers in your dirty mouth or else it would get us off before we even got to the main event!” He nips at Logan's ear as he squirts some lube onto his fingers and whispers to him, “ready, sweetheart?” Logan slows his pace and nods. Finn is really confused until he feels a finger slide in next to his cock inside of Logan.

All three of them stop breathing for a moment until Logan lets out a possibly filthy moan and Finn follows suit, Leo slowly starts moving the finger in and out of his lover while putting pressure onto his other lover's shaft. They all move together until Leo has three fingers buried in Logan, who has cum twice. Finn is trying to make as much noise as possible, he arches his back trying to will himself not to cum from the feeling of Logan tight around him and Leo moving next to him.

Leo slowly pulled his fingers out and pushed his hand through Logan’s sweaty hair while sucking on a hickey he made behind Logan's ear. He whispered into his ear for the second time that session.

“Are you ready for this or do you want to stop with just fingers for tonight.”

“No! I want, I want- Je te veux aussi en moi.” He was too far gone to remember English at this very moment and Leo watches as a pretty flush washes over Finn from his ears to his chest, his breath hitches and Leo leans back away from Logan’s sweaty back to lube his ignored cock up.

“Ready?” He sees Logan nod and smile, kissing the side of his head and slowly pushing in, again they all three groaned in sync as Leo slid inside next to Finn. He watched as the redhead's eyes rolled back and his head dropped back onto the pillow. Leo’s attention is pulled to Logan who turns his head to kiss Leo while smiling. Whispering encouragement to move. Leo does as Logan asks and starts moving causing Logan to cum for a third time and shout. Leo kept moving even as he felt Finn start to come.

Logan is in another dimension, he feels Finn release inside him as Leo moves and tears start to fall from his eyes. He was steadily streaming cum from his own ongoing orgasm. He watches as Finn’s beauty over took his sense, the smell of sweat and sex, the view of his beautiful red cheeks and sweat shiny chest, the sounds of him whimpering behind the bundle of boxer briefs in his mouth. He had to kiss him. Logan takes the fabric out of Finn’s mouth and swallows his moans licking into his mouth as Leo continues to fuck them. His breath stutters as he feels Leo start to cum inside him also.

After a while of catching their breaths, Logan unties Finn as Leo and Finn both slip out of him. He falls between his boys cuddling into them, none of them wanting to get up to get a washcloth to clean them up, because they are one sticky mess.

Finn isn’t quite done with them though, after his fog whooshes away he shimmies down the bed and rolls over between Logan's legs. Pushing them open, he surprises Logan by licking over his entrance, pulling a shiver from the shorter man. He knew Lo loves overstimulation so he had a good feeling on how this would go. He starts licking in a pattern of short soft licks and long harder ones mixed in. He feels a weight next to him on the bed and feels one of Logan's legs lift up. Leo lays down on his stomach next to Finn with Logan’s leg resting over his shoulder.

Leo starts kissing on Logan’s inner thigh and nudges Finn’s cheek with his nose, drawing his attention away from sucking on Logan’s entrance and kissing him. Swiping their tongues over each other, Leo catches Finn’s and sucks on it for a second before pulling away, smacking his lips and licking them.

“Good soup.”

“I hate you.” Logan mumbles from above them. His disdain is short-lived short-lived as Leo takes his turn eating him out. Fucking him with his tonuge Logan reaches down, feeling for someones hair and just gripping as he cums again. Dry this time but still wonderful. His eyes slip shut after his climax, feeling the other two shift around and clean up. He eventually opens his eyes again to see one of them on either side of him, Leo is making sure Logan didn’t get hurt during the activities, and Finn was just staring at his face.

“What?” Finn smiles and flops next to him.

“Holy shit, I was not expecting that!” Finn looks at them with an exasperated smile still breathing hard. “How long was this in the works?”

“Ce matin”

“Huh?”

“This morning” Leo laughs a little, taking his place on the other side of Logan.

“Wow, you guys have no patience.”

#leo knut #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #sweater weather #coast to coast #o'knutzy #lumosinlove

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fangirlovestuff · 3 years

Text

To Infinity And Beyond - Chris Evans x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! i thought of this when we found out chris is doing lightyear (which i am so happy about omg) and i just really wanted to write it:) also you can see it as my way to make up for the angsty ending of rumor has it lol. also the gif definitely isn’t how i imagened him in the fic i just thought it was nice since he’s voice acting. hope you enjoy and as always feedback is super appreciated<3

Summary: you meet a mysterious strager in your new voice acting job in a pixar movie, but you can swear you knew him from somewhere, if you could just figure out where...

Warnings: this is happening during covid-19, also any and all romantic attraction in this fic is towards chris and NOT buzz, y’all be wildin but it ain’t me, there’s very clear separation between character and actor i promise lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you were a voice actor for a few years now

you only had pretty minor jobs by now, some small tv shows, a movie for a small studio

but apparently luck was on your side

you scored the most epic gig ever - Disney!!

you were so excited, disney movies being a part of your childhood and your life

disney was basically a synonym for “happy” for you, and you were indeed ecstatic to work with them

you were voicing the love interest in a new toy story movie, one that was depicting the story of the person buzz lightyear from toy story

so naturally, you brought your friends over to have a toy story marathon to tell them the news

they were just as excited as you were, if not more

you were supposed to meet your costars before the film, but because of covid they wanted to minimize the contact between you all, meaning you had virtually no idea who they were, since no one was officially announced to the public yet

your first day on the job, you came a little early, wanting to affirm the faith that was put in you when they cast you

you were told to wait on a couch outside for a couple of minutes until the actor before you finished

you wanted to ask who was it, but before you could the assistant who ushered you in was already going somewhere else and you didn’t want to bother them

after a few minutes, you saw a man leave the recording studio, his mask on his face

you could’ve sworn he looked familiar, but more importantly

damn

he looked really good, even with a mask

but you didn’t have the time to think about it as he left quickly and you were called inside

you made small talk with the producer for a bit before getting to business, doing a couple takes of each scene and then you were told it’s okay to go

a few days later, when you came in they told you they already have some stuff from buzz, so you were going to do your scenes and hear what he was saying

at first you were glad, because it’s easier to talk when you’re “talking to someone”

but then you realized it was an unwelcome distraction

his voice was so familiar, and you just couldn’t place it for the life of you

you had tried to do a few takes, but each time you got distracted thinking you figured it out and then realizing that’s probably untrue

at the end of your session you apologized

“sorry guys, i’m a little tired today”

they said it was no problem and just to come more focused tomorrow, and off you went

on your way out, you bumped into the man you had seen your first day

like, physically bumped

“sorry,” you smiled through your mask, hoping he’d understand it

he simply waved you off and quickly went upstairs to the studio

oh well, maybe he was late

at any case, as you walked home you realized you could’ve just asked who was voicing buzz and resisted the urge to facepalm since you were in public, thinking you’d ask once the weekend was over

but you didn’t get the chance to ask after all, seeing as they released the news over the weekend

“Chris Evans to voice Buzz Lightyear in new Pixar film”

your jaw dropped

obviously you knew who captain america was, and you were shocked you hadn’t recognized his voice

moreover, you realized you also didn’t recognize his face

this time you were in the comfort of your own home so you actually facepalmed

you had bumped into chris evans not once, but twice, and you didn’t recognize him

god, you were so embarrassed

the next day when you came to work you were greeted by the sight of chris leaving the studio just as you arrived

his mask was still on his chin, so that was the first time you properly saw him

and oh my god was it worth the wait

“Hi,” you smiled at him

“hey,” he smiled back

“I’m probably gonna be a little late, but it’s really nice to officially meet you,” you said

you didn’t know what to do next, but thankfully he extended his hand for a handshake

“you too,” he smiled

“listen, i don’t wanna keep you too long, but can i maybe have your phone number? so we can actually get to know each other,” he chuckled

“yeah, sure,” you smiled

ohmygod chris evans just asked for my number

over the next few weeks you had seen chris a handful of times while one of you was leaving the studio, but you didn’t have much time to talk

until one day, when chris asked you this question:

“do you wanna get something to eat sometimes?”

your brain short-circuited for a good minute

“it’s just so weird being in a movie and not knowing your castmates,” he added

“yeah, i totally get it. i’d love to get something to eat,” you said, his words shaking you from your reverie

“great,” he smiled, “so, uh, i’ll text you”

“sure,” you smiled back

and true to his word, a few days later the both of you went out to a restaurant that had an outside sitting space to eat

when your food arrived you took off your mask and took a bite

“hmmm, this place is rea-”

the words got stuck in your throat as you looked at chris and saw him looking at you with a smile

“what’s wrong, is there something on my face?”

“no,” he quickly assured you, “no, it’s just that it’s even prettier than i imagined. your face, i mean,” he chuckled and looked down at his food

“thanks,” you giggled looking back down at your plate

“so, how come you’re doing this project anyways?” you asked. “i mean, i’ve never known you as a voice actor. i mean, i never really knew you at all until now but you get it,” you chuckled

“yeah,” he smiled, “well, i’ve always really loved disney. like, when i was a kid i really wanted to work there when i was older, so when the opportunity presented itself obviously i took it. young me would’ve beat my ass if i didn’t,” he chuckled.

“that’s so sweet,” you grinned

you talked about your work for a while, some cool scenes you both got to watch, but the conversation got more and more personal as the night progressed, as talking about your favorite disney movies turned into talking about your families and your childhood

talking to him was easy, and you didn’t even feel the time passing until you realized you should probably get out of the restaurant before they kick you out

not that they would kick chris evans out, but you know, manners are important

you offered to split the bill, but chris wouldn’t have it

“c’mon chris, it’s not like this is a date,” you chuckled

a silence settled over the two of you for a moment as you both contemplated what you just said

“what if i wanted it to be, would you allow that?” he smiled after a few moments

“that depends,” you smiled, “are you asking because you want me to let you pay?”

“ah, you got me,” he raised his arms, “but that’s just a part of it. i’m actually asking because i wanna know. for future reference, so i'll know when i ask you out again to ask you to go somewhere you don’t need to pay because you’re so stubborn,” he smiled softly

“alright, i guess you can pay,” you rolled your eyes with a smile, unable to fight the grin rising on your face

“and i’d love to go out again,” you said

don’t worry, you ended up going out again

that’s just a story for another time;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i feel like this was probably cuter in my head but i hope you enjoyed!!

Taglist: @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12

if you wanna join / be removed from this taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans fic

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shadowedmoonlight · 3 years

Text

3 Times Virgil Came Out to Others + 1 Time Someone Came Out to Him

I am aware that I am a few hours late, but this is the longest oneshot I've ever written

Day 3: Coming out

Warnings: Food mention, talk of sexual attraction (In regards to asexuality), anxiety, disassociation (brief)

Summary: In which the story gains a plot ft. fluff and hurt/comfort

Word count: 4025

Read on Ao3

Masterlist

Virgil hadn’t been this terrified in a long time. He knew that being gay shouldn’t be that big of a deal, in regards to his two gay fathers, but he couldn’t stop the terrifying thoughts from running through their head.

What if they thought he was too young to have figured himself out? They were only fifteen after all. Is he even sure they're gay? And what would they think about the pronouns thing? Vigil had no idea where their dads stood on transgender rights.

They had planned to do it after dinner. That way he could have one last dinner of peace in the unlikely event of something going wrong. It's more likely than you think they’re gonna kick you out, you’re gonna have to live on the streets

Emile had made spinach lasagna that night. Virgil’s favorite. But he could hardly enjoy it due to the nerves stirring in his stomach. Instead, he moved the food around on his plate and attempted to pay attention to the conversation occurring before him.

He believed his dad was telling some dramatic story about some lady that came into the coffee shop. They normally would be completely invested in that sort of thing, but they just couldn’t focus with all the thoughts running around his head.

What is he gonna do if he gets kicked out? They can’t live on the streets. He can barely work a stove. How would he live on his own? Maybe Remus or Janus would take him in? No, they have their own problems. They shouldn’t burden them with his own problems. But how would he-

“Virgil? What do you think?” A voice cut through his spiral.

“Hm- wha-?” Virgil couldn’t recall for the life of them what he was supposed to be responding to. He looked up to see his parents both looking at him concernedly.

“You feeling okay, hon? It's not like you to space out like that,” Emile asked.

Virgil winced. He had to learn to be less obvious to when they were stressed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

They still looked doubtful. “Are you sure?” Remy raised an eyebrow.

Virgil nodded and tried for a small smile. He didn’t think it was successful, however, when his parents exchanged a worried glance. His leg bounced slightly under the table. Why couldn’t they relax?

Emile started to collect the dishes but paused when their eyes landed on Virgil’s still-full plate. He glanced again at their husband, and then their son.

“Maybe you should head to bed early tonight. You hardly touched your food. You might be coming down with something.” Virgil saw Remy stand up as his Papa spoke. He offered them a hand.

“Babes, I think that might be a good idea. You’re looking a bit pale- well, paler than usual with all that foundation you cake on. Don’t think I don’t notice.” Virgil blushed, slightly. His experimentation with makeup had been one of his ways to tone down their glaring masculinity.

In response to the first statement, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to put this off another day. They weren’t sure they had enough energy or confidence to go through with this. With a little hesitation, they grabbed Remy's hand and hauled himself to their feet.

Emile smiled sadly at their son’s submissiveness. He had to have been really tired with the way his eyes kept wandering. They abandoned the dishes they were holding, grabbed his other hand, and started leading Remy and Virgil upstairs.

Virgil blinked and suddenly he was in their room. They sat between his parents on his bed. Emile had them leaning against their side as Remy rubbed soft circles into his back. His eyes darted around in confusion.

Remy glanced down and let out a sigh of relief. “Welcome back to this plane of existence.”

Emile smacked their husband lightly. “Sorry baby, we didn’t want to leave you alone while you were disassociating.” Virgil’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. They didn’t remember going into an episode.

Remy kissed his forehead and stood up. “We’ll leave you to your peace now. Let us know if you need anything.” Emile began to follow.

Virgil bit their lip. Was he really going to go through all this stress just to chicken out? He took a breath. He was strong. They could do this.

“Wait,” they called out, lightly. “I need to talk to you about something.” His parents halted in their place in the doorway and came back to sit next to them.

“What is it, babe? Did something happen?” Remy grabbed one of his hands.

“No, not exactly,” Virgil said. His breath was starting to stutter.

“Take your time,” Emile said, softly.

Virgil attempted to calm their breathing. It's highly unlikely that this will have a bad outcome, half of his brain rationalized. They are gay themselves, after all.

Yeah, but what about the pronoun thing? The other half argued. You have no idea what they’ll think of it.

Virgil took another deep breath and opened his mouth to speak. They may as well start with the easy one. “I’m… I’m gay.”

Remy placed a hand on his chest and sighed dramatically. “Oh thank god,” he exclaimed. “I’m not sure I could have handled it if I had to raise a straight son.”

Emile smacked him again. Virgil winced slightly at the word ‘son.’ Remy seemed to notice his discomfort and scooted closer. “Of course we love and accept you and everything, but that's all kind of obvious considering, well,” he lifted his hand as wiggled his ring finger, “Is there something else on your mind?”

Virgil nodded, “I, um, want to start using different pronouns. He/they.”

Emile lit up. “Ooh, we can match!”

Virgil’s head shot up. “What?”

Both Emile and Remy looked confused for a second before a horrifying realization dawned on them.

“Did I- never tell you I’m non-binary?” Emile asked, tentativly. They were sure they told Virgil at some point.

Virgil couldn’t help themself. He started to laugh hysterically. After a moment their parents joined in.

“I’m sorry- I just- I’m fifteen years old and you never thought to tell me that vital piece of information?” Virgil wiped tears from his eyes as he continued to giggle.

Emile was bright red. “Trust me, I’m mortified.”

Remy groaned. “That makes two of us.”

Virgil snorted. “I was so worried about how’d you react and this whole time you’re the same thing.”

“Oh honey,” Emile exclaimed. “You should never be worried about telling us something. We support you no matter what.”

“Of course,” Remy added. “What kind of hypocrites would we be if we said otherwise?”

Virgil pulled them both into a hug. “You’re the best parents anyone could ask for.”

Sanders High School had an interesting dynamic. There were two main groups that everyone at school was invested majorly in. Most, if not all, of the gossip in school was directed at them. They were envied. They were hated. They were idolized. They were the closest thing Sanders High ever had to celebrities. The Dark Sides and The Light Sides.

Everyone that saw them would assume they were the rivals. Bickering and prank wars were constant. Classroom debates between members could last hours if not moderated. Each group consisted of three members.

First up is Roman Prince, the flamboyant jock and theater nerd. He was the first kid at school to break through harmful gender stereotypes. Before he came to school, any boy that joined theater was seen as weak and nerdy. Roman was the first openly gay kid on the football team- as quarterback no less- and the first jock to join the drama program. He was unapologetically himself in everything he did. He often came to school in skirts and dresses and there was rarely a day he could be seen without his signature red lipstick. Despite his smashing of stereotypes, Roman is the only cis kid in both the light and dark sides (not that everyone is out to the school like he is, or even to each other). He has the most social media followers out of anyone in the school, and was the one to first publicize the two groups. Roman is a proud member of The Light Sides.

Next is Patton Hart, the bubbly, adorable student council president. Everybody loved Patton and they loved everybody. Patton is one of the kindest kids in the school. He’s always willing to drop everything to help somebody or cheer someone up. They met Roman when they were young and they’ve been inseparable ever since. Some might say they’re dating, but a select few know otherwise.

Last in The Light Sides is Logan Berry. Logan is objectively the smartest kid in school. He is rumored to be taking all AP classes. How that’s possible, no one knows. Everyone knows that Logan will be Valedictorian at the end of the year. There’s no other logical choice. Somehow, even with all that, they also manage to be co-captain of the debate club. Patton and Roman somehow managed to rope them into their small group sometime during elementary school. Again, how that’s possible, no one knows. Logan is extremely stone-faced to people they're not close with. Some think he might be a robot with how emotionless he is most of the time. Those people, however, have never seen him with a jar of Crofters. (But if they knew their secret, everyone would think so).

Over in the dark sides, we have Janus Lies. Genderfluid icon. Their coming out started a revolution of sorts at Sanders High. So many kids came out as non-binary or genderfluid or something in between, the school ended up getting rid of gendered bathrooms entirely. A new genderfluid locker room was built in the PE building and the academic teachers revised their gendered way of teaching. But, back to Janus. They were the most sarcastic person you’d ever meet. So much so, it became difficult for people to tell if they were telling the truth. Their trademark hat and gloves stayed on no matter what the occasion. They also co-captained the debate club with Logan. They grouped together with Remus and Virgil before anyone could remember, including the three dark sides.

Remus Prince, twin of Roman Prince, is the extremely crude drama student and class clown. They are known for their dark sense of humor and sexual disruptions of class. The teachers have learned to just ignore them, as countless trips to detention were fruitless in correcting their behavior. Although they privately came out before Janus, they were more private socially when it came to their gender. Until that is, Janus came out and was accepted. After that, Remus showed no limits in expressing themself.

Lastly, there is Virgil Picani, the emo nightmare themself. He is in almost every club at school, including but not limited to drama, debate, GSA, writing, and volunteering. His sarcastic personality is no stranger to anybody, although it is much more subdued than Janus’s. Virgil came out to Janus and Remus before he had even fully figured himself out yet. He had not, however, come out to any of the light sides as gay or genderqueer.

And that brings us to today. As mentioned earlier, anyone that saw the two groups would assume they had a strong rivalry. But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

The reality is, although they did start out as rivals, the six of them have a strong friendship. They keep up the facade of competitors for sake of reputation (and a little fun never hurt anybody). Once Roman and Remus had gotten over their sibling rivalry, the six of them had discovered that they shared many of the same interests. They started hanging out after school and now it is rare to see one of the group without another.

Virgil knows that he has nothing to worry about. Roman is gay, and both Patton and Logan already use he/they pronouns. They accepted Janus and Remus without question. It won’t be any different for him. All they actually had to do was tell them.

But here lies the issue. Virgil thought they had already. It wasn’t until the first day of pride month that he realized their mistake.

They decided to make pronoun pins for all the kids in GSA. So, naturally, he made one for himself as well. They weren't publicly out yet, but it was perfectly okay for them to wear them inside the safety that was the gay-straight alliance.

Virgil was struggling to attach his pin to their shirt when Janus came over to help. Virgil noted the blue bracelet. Janus looked surprised as he read the contents of the pin.

“You told them?” He asked, incredulously. “I thought you would tell me when you finally did it.”

Virgil was confused. “What do you mean? I came out to them… shoot.”

Janus snorted. “You totally don’t need to tell them. This isn’t getting out of hand at all.”

Virgil blushed red. “I honestly thought I did! I’ll do it now, okay?”

They didn’t wait for a response before marching over to Roman, Logan, and Patton and dragging them outside of the classroom. He ignored the curious looks of their classmates, most likely wondering what they were fighting about this time.

They closed the door behind them and looked around quickly, making sure there was no one else around. He turned back to the group that was looking at him, slightly concerned.

Virgil rolled their eyes at their expressions. “Oh calm down, I just forgot to tell you something, is all.”

Logan cleared their throat and straightened up. “And that is?”

“I genderqueer, he/they, and gay.”

“Yay!” Patton exclaimed and pulled him into a hug. “I’m proud of you for being yourself.”

Patton pulled back and Virgil caught the expressions of the other two. Logan was looking at him with a delighted expression on their face. “I had my suspicions.”

Roman furrowed his brows. “So did I, but I must ask, why wait so long to tell us? Surely you knew that we would accept you wholeheartedly.”

Virgil snorted. “I actually did the same thing my Papa did with me. I thought I told you all ages ago.” They all laughed at that.

“We should probably get back,” Logan remarked, “Thank you for trusting us enough to tell us this.”

Virgil felt nervous, but not extremely so.

He knew nothing would go wrong. So many kids had come out in the past year at Sanders High, the school had made pronoun pins mandatory to avoid misgendering. All they had to do was wear the new pin he had grabbed from the office the day before. He also planned to wear a rainbow shirt to identify themself as the flaming homosexual he is.

The only real thing they were worried about would be the gossip surrounding them for the next week or so. Someone coming out is hardly a rare occurrence, but they were one of the most popular kids in school. He was certain that there were at least a few bets going around school on whether they were queer or not. To be fair, he was the only member of the Light and Dark sides to never confirm any rumors about gender or sexuality. And it's not as if he’s really hid anything. He’s just never confirmed.

But they’re ready to change that. They pull on their rainbow shirt, do their makeup slightly more dramatic than usual, and debate for a moment over the plaid purple skirt his dads had gotten him a few years ago. It matched his usual hoodie perfectly, but he had yet to wear it outside the house. There was no reason not to wear it. Why not spend his first day publicly out AGAP (as gay as possible)?

They arrive at school with an air of confidence around them that he hadn’t felt in a while. As he walked through the hallways, he saw a few looks of disappointment, but most were of excitement and joy. They caught a few thumbs up and cheers in the crowd as well.

He found the other two members of the Dark Sides standing at Virgil’s locker, both wearing identical looks of pride as they stared at him. They walked directly up to the pair, smirking slightly. Once he was within earshot, Remus grasped their head with one hand and Janus’s shoulder, striking a dramatic pose.

“Do you see that Jan Jan? Our little slime monster is all grown up!” Virgil rolled their eyes at their best friend’s antics. Janus lifted their wrist to show off her pink band. Despite the new rule about pronoun pins, Janus still kept her bracelet system in place. She claimed it to be simpler and more efficient.

She slung her arm around Virgil’s shoulders. She leaned in and said in a low voice, “I really am proud of you.”

Remus jumped on his back. “That makes two of us!”

Virgil had always enjoyed Logan’s company. They were the only person out of the group of six that allowed him some peace.

He could also be a captivating conversation partner. Listening to Logan ramble on about whatever he was currently studying was one of Virgil's favorite pastimes. The way his eyes lit up when you asked him about something they were interested in was adorable. And his voice would take on this gorgeous tone to it that Virgil knows not many people get to hear.

Their weekly study session was the thing that Virgil looked forward to the most. Every Thursday, they get to spend hours in a room with the most beautiful person he knows. They love the way Logan will straighten his tie or fix his hair even when they’re both immaculate. He loves the way they slowly and patiently explain the answer to something Virgil gets wrong, never criticizing them or getting frustrated.

Virgil may have developed an itty bitty crush on them over the years.

Not that they will ever tell him. They don’t even know where he stands on sexuality. He has only been open about their gender. And he doesn’t want to complicate their relationship for the sake of some silly crush.

The two of them sat in Virgil’s room doing homework. Logan sat on their bed, while Virgil had opted for the floor. They had hardly spoken a word to each other in the past few hours (a normal occurrence for their weekly get-togethers), but Virgil could tell something was bothering Logan. They’d been fidgeting for the past hour or so, and had seemed tense and nervous all day.

Virgil placed their bookmark into his book and groaned loudly. “If I have to read one more word of this, I think my eyes might literally start bleeding.”

Logan also marked their page before looking up. “That is highly unlikely. The amount of force that would cause one's eyeballs to ‘literally’ start bleeding is far more than would be caused by eye strain. Additionally, subconjunctival hemorrhage has not been linked to overuse and is instead usually caused by some sort of trauma to the eye. So unless you are planning to hit yourself in the face with the book, it will not cause your eyes to hemorrhage.”

Virgil huffed a laugh, internally cooing at how adorable they are when explaining something. “I guess you’re right. I can’t read anymore though.”

Logan cleaning their glasses on the edge of his shirt. “I agree with that statement.”

Virgil looked at him closely. Cleaning their glasses is a sort of nervous tick for him. And they had done it multiple times in the last hour. “Okay, what's going on? You’ve been nervous and weird all afternoon.”

Logan cleared his throat. “Nothing of importance.”

“So there is something!” Virgil exclaimed.

They blanched. “No, of course not. What would be wrong at the moment?”

Virgil gave them a look. “I never said that there was something wrong.”

Logan stood up quickly and started gathering his materials. “Well, it’s getting late. I must head home now in order to be at dinner at an adequate time.”

Virgil grabbed their arm. “Wait, Logan, there’s still hours until you need to leave. If you really don’t want to talk about whatever’s bothering you, we don’t have to. But if you do, I’m here and ready to listen.”

Logan shot them a grateful look. “I truly appreciate that Virgil. I will keep your offer in mind.”

They resumed their study positions and all was silent for a few minutes. Virgil couldn’t keep their mind off of Logan. He hoped that whatever was troubling him could be resolved easily. He didn’t want him to be distressed.

Eventually, Logan stiffly placed his books beside him and turned to their study partner. At the shift in movement, Virgil also put away their materials and prepared to listen, moving to sit next to them on their bed.

“I would like you to not speak until I am done speaking if that is acceptable for you.” Virgil immediately agreed. They would never interrupt him when they were having such a serious conversation.

“My sincerest gratitude. I-” Logan paused. They took a stuttering breath. Virgil reached out and took his hand, attempting to provide some form of comfort.

“I am not a robot. I know that there are some that may think otherwise. Aside from the vast technological inaccuracies in that statement, contrary to popular belief, I do have emotions. I do experience love. Just not in the same way as others do. From a young age, I have known that I have felt no sexual attraction. The idea of sex repulsed me far more than I can explain, even past the age of maturity. I have no desire to love anybody in that way. And I never will.

“I was under the impression that the same went for romantic attraction. I had never felt any sort of romantic feelings for a female. But recent… variables have shown me otherwise. I do not feel any romantic attraction for people of the female gender or sex. I do, however, experience attraction to people of the same gender. These people fall under the male and non-binary spectrum. In conclusion, I am asexual and homoromantic. I am finished, you may speak now.”

Virgil was delighted by the news. They had just confirmed that his crush could possibly be attracted to him. They didn’t care about the asexual part. It changed none of his feelings towards the academic prodigy.

They made the mistake of staying silent for a moment too long. That became evident when he looked at Logan’s face. Any positive feelings he had melted into concern.

“Oh, Lo,” they said softly, “You’re crying.” He brought his hand to Logan’s cheek and wiped away the silent tears that had trickled down with their thumb.

Logan's voice wobbled as they spoke. “My apologies.”

“No,” Virgil cooed, “you have nothing to apologize for. You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re accepting yourself and I am so proud of you for that.”

That seemed to be all it would take for their dam to break. Soft sobs escaped his mouth and he brought up a hand to try to muffle them.

Virgil made a sympathetic noise and wrapped them up in their arms. He cupped the back of Logan’s neck with one hand and used the other to rub soothing circles into his back. Logan gripped their hoodie tightly as they cried into their shoulder.

Virgil whispered quiet words of encouragement to him. Eventually, Logan seemed to finally be calming down. His tears dwindled into quiet sniffles and they sagged into his chest. The emotional exhaustion of the day in addition to the exergy expelled by crying made him unbelievably tired.

Virgil shifted the two so they were lying down on his bed, Logan cuddled against their chest. They could feel his breaths evening out rapidly.

Virgil pressed a small kiss into his forehead, wishing more than anything that they could do it when Logan could remember.

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brandstifter-sys · 3 years

Text

Carry On

Five Times Remus Swept Virgil Off His Feet (and One Time Virgil Returned the Favor)

That's a FOB title if I ever saw one

Word Count: 2927 (Ao3)

Characters: all sides

Pairing: Dukexiety

Rating: T

Warnings: self-doubt, sex mention, swearing, mild gore mention, undertale references, dc comics references, charlie the unicorn references

inspired by @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes‘ post linked here

One…

Sans. Virgil truly hated this battle, but he was set on finishing this run to get to the true ending the next time around. Too bad he was getting his ass handed to him by a punny pile of bones!

He growled to himself as his fingers frantically danced over the keys. He didn't care if anyone came into the common area while he was there, he couldn't afford the stress from his room and everyone knew to stay away from him or else.

Remus was not one of those sides who did what he was supposed to do all the time. So when he popped up in the common area, he didn't think twice about lounging on the couch next to his favorite emo.

"Oh come on!" Virgil snapped at his computer as he lost again. He clawed at his hair and let out a long, agonized groan before flopping back on the couch. His hands were shaking and his heart was racing. He was one more loss away from committing murder.

"Uh oh!" Remus giggled and got up. He closed the laptop and grinned at Virgil as the emo tried to murder him with his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"Me? Well I have to make a delivery to the Grand Duke of the Imagination! And you have what I need!" Remus hummed and wiggled his shoulders. Virgil scowled and crossed his arms.

"What are you talking about?" he huffed, ignoring the mischievous twinkle in Remus' eyes. That was a mistake!

Remus swooped down and scooped him up bridal style, laughing at Virgil flailing in his arms and squawking like a gull. He would never drop him out of nowhere! Silly emo could trust him!

"I'm taking you to the Grand Duke so he can spoil you and cheer you up! By any means necessary!" Remus purred and winked, bringing a delightful blush to Virgil's face.

"What the hell?"

"You are my damsel in distress and I don't even have to slay a monster to make sure you're okay—unless you want me to, there's definitely a monster I want to see, in your—"

"No. I am so done with monsters today. Don't even make that joke. Just do what you were planning," Virgil huffed and averted his gaze, no longer squirming to get away. Remus could live with that as long as he could keep holding this tall drink of water!

Two…

Remus was just polishing his morning star when he decided it was a good time to harass his brother and talk about the only thing they seemed to agree on: butts!

He appeared in the common area to the sound of a Disney movie, it would have been perfect, but Roman was not alone on the couch. Oh no, he could clearly distinguish a mop of purple hair next to the prince’s own preened locks. Neither one seemed to notice the duke looming behind them, which was good. Surprising Roman was way too much fun!

“How can you claim this isn’t romantic and charming?!” Roman grumbled as Prince Philip and Briar Rose began to dance and sing in the forest. Virgil snorted and shook his head.

“There’s nothing more romantic than a total stranger in his 20s swooping in and interrupting a 16 year old girl’s furry fantasy without an introduction or asking,” Virgil droned sarcastically. He snickered at the offended gasp that came out of the prince’s mouth and shifted in his seat.

“You wanna pause this and grab some popcorn? My leg fell asleep.”

Before Roman could move Remus struck.

“Hello there! The angel from my nightmares, the shadow in the background of the morgue!” he sang and scooped Virgil into his arms, twirling around with the brightest grin imaginable. Virgil squeaked and clung to him, more out of surprise than fear. He should have seen it coming.

“I think my point stands,” Roman teased, smirking at the pair like a cheshire cat. Virgil shot him a death glare, daring him to say anything more while Remus giggled impishly between verses.

“Perhaps you should take care of that leg and we can continue later. I would hate to rob you of a moment like this!” the prince continued, making Virgil flush and plot his end. Remus laughed and brushed Roman off.

“Looks like I’m the dashing heroic prince today! Better luck next time Hoe-man!” he sang and sunk out for some much needed cuddles. Roman rolled his eyes, ignoring the sleight in favor of appreciating how cute those two could be. Plus he could rewatch his movie without critique!

Three…

Virgil was exhausted. After a long study session for the next video, making sure that Logan knew his lines and keeping Janus from making them take a break, all he wanted to do was fall into a coma. But he was still in the common area and he would have company if he didn't move, but that meant moving. He drooped, letting his limbs hang off the couch, wishing he had the energy.

That was a mistake, and he knew that he would regret it. Especially when something slimy glided up the back of his hand.

"Gross," he grumbled, not bothering to look at the culprit. Remus giggled and licked his hand again before kissing it. He got off the floor and on one knee, smiling at his emo.

"You know you love me!" he teased and brought Virgil's hand to his lips again, "You're like my personal damsel in distress and I just love saving you and making you feel like a princess!"

"I'm not a damsel, just tired. Can I take a nap in peace?"

"Not out here, Scare Bear! You know it gets crazy with the others around!" Remus giggled and scooped him up without any struggle.

"If you take me to your dungeon to do horrible things to me in my sleep, make sure I have both kidneys intact."

"No promises, Charlie!" Remus teased and resituated Virgil so he could rest his head on his shoulder, "But I can promise you a comfy bed and the best snuggle buddy ever!"

"You're bringing Winary? Hellhounds don't make for great cuddles. They stink of brimstone," Virgil mumbled against his neck.

"Nope! You get to cuddle with a stinky dukey!" Remus countered and walked towards his room with his precious cargo.

"I'd rather cuddle with you," Virge mumbled and curled into Remus' chest.

"But I am a stinky dukey!" he said, fighting back the urge to squeal. Virgil huffed and wrapped his arms around Remus.

"I like your scent. It's comforting, like a puppy that likes mud."

"You Sir are exhausted!" Remus declared, "And you are taking a long nap with me so you can get that snark back!"

"You better be there when I wake up," Virge answered, barely able to keep his eyes open. Remus was happy and he was sure to be there the whole time.

Four...

"Virgil, you can't just call Remus every time something mildly inconvenient happens. He's not your footman," Janus huffed as Virgil curled into himself. He was going to summon Remus for a good reason. It wasn't his fault that the duke showed up every time he stubbed his toe!

"I know that, Snake-face," he huffed, "I don't actually summon him when they happen. He just knows."

"And you do nothing to stop him. It's not good for you to be dependent on him for everything. There's a fine line between self-care and sinking into bad habits."

"I'm not sinking into bad habits, Janus. I'm fine with being toted around if it makes him feel like he's being heroic instead of a villain."

Janus sighed and shook his head. Virgil had a point, Remus needed to feel wanted and needed. And who better to provide that for him than Virgil? Remus adored him!

"And I want him to show up right now," Virgil mumbled and hugged his knees. His skin was crawling and he was freezing. Was it too selfish for him to want to have Remus hold him and keep him close? Was he taking advantage of Remus wanting to be someone's hero? Was he even good enough to get that kind of attention from the duke?

"Remus!" Janus called out, rather than sit by and watch Virgil spiral. He sank out at the same time Remus appeared.

Remus got one look at Virgil and immediately pulled him into his arms. Virgil melted into him and let out a contented sigh.

"Scare Bear!" Remus cheered and spun on his heels, "My spider sense was tingling! What's wrong, Bitter Sweetie?"

"I just need some creature contact," Virgil grumbled, "and you're the most comfortable creature I know."

"So no slaying your demons or disemboweling anyone?" Remus giggled and dropped Virgil on the couch before flopping on him. Virgil shifted and wrapped his arms around Remus' waist.

"Nah, just don't leave. I need a Cuddlefish."

"And you got me for as long you want!" Remus giggled and nestled his head under Virgil's chin.

"You're gonna be here for a while," Virge hummed and soaked in the warmth Remus provided.

"I don't mind," Remus said, "I like it here!" And that was an understatement.

Five…

Remus was just going to the kitchen for a snack—he had some prairie oysters with his name on them! But he paused in the middle of the hallway when he saw Virgil on a step ladder, painting a wrought iron fence mural over his door. He was so focused, so pretty, Remus had to stare.

"You know, creeping on someone who's on a ladder is considered a bad idea."

"Do I look like the guy who has good ideas?"

"No, I should know better, you like me."

"No talking bad about yourself!" Remus growled and loomed closer.

"Oh, that's not what I meant. I mean you like the one guy who can kick your ass and you keep calling him a damsel. Last I checked, I saved you from the Dragon Witch twice this week alone."

"It was hot!" Remus agreed as Virge bent over to get more paint on his brush, carefully holding onto the wall, "But that doesn't mean you can't be a damsel too! You're like Dick Grayson—perfectly capable of kicking ass, but also very much in need of some saving every so often! Plus I think you'd make those shorts look good! Almost as good as I'd look getting into them!" Virgil jolted away from Remus as he was getting up again and lost his balance.

It felt like forever, falling backwards with nothing to grab onto. He was sure the impact would be annoying, but not terrible. If he were any higher up his instincts could have easily taken over and he wouldn't land on his back. But that impact never came. Instead he landed in a pair of strong arms.

"I knew you'd fall for me and my feral mojo!" Remus giggled down at him. Virgil stared at him for a second before swiping his paintbrush over Remus' nose.

"Sure, Puppy, you tell yourself that," Virgil said with a smirk, "It's not at all because you had the audacity to call me Dick Grayson when I'm more of a Jason Todd."

"You're more of a hottie who needs to snuggle with me after that kind of fall!"

"You really need to consider just asking like a normal person," Virgil jeered and kissed his cheek.

"Why would you ever consider that? Boring! You need some excitement in your life and that's where I come in!"

"I thought you came in—"

"Dirty jokes are my job!"

"I thought you came in like Peter Parker on a wrecking ball. Chaotically trying to save me from every mild inconvenience," Virge reiterated and wrapped his arms around Remus' shoulders before kissing his cheek again. Remus was a happy boy.

And then...

It was just perfect! Remus was so excited to finally have a gift for Patton that he would like! He appeared in the common area in the kitchen, just out of sight of the duo watching Looney Toons. Patton and Virgil were in for a treat!

He set Fluffy on the floor and motioned towards the couch. The little thing sprinted off in a pale pink blur and Remus waited for the cooing and squealing from Patton.

His heart shattered when all he heard were horrified screams coming from the father figure. He sank out to his room and fought the urge to cry. Fluffy would be able to get back to the Imagination without him.

Virgil paused the show and watched Patton scoop up the hairless cat with tears in his eyes.

"Look Virgil!" he cheered and held up the cat like she was Simba, "A kitty I can pet!" Virgil blinked twice, confused as to how a cat found her way into the commons. That's when he spotted the green collar around her neck and the silver tag hanging from it.

"Can I keep her Virge?" Patton pleaded as Virgil checked the tag. He had a hunch that Fluffy was meant to be with Patton.

"You're asking me?" he jeered and got up, "Let's find the guy who made her and ask him. I'm pretty sure Remus set her loose to find you."

"Remus? He made this little angel?" Patton gasped and cuddled her to his chest. She purred and kneaded his hoodie, getting him to squeal again.

"I'll go get him, and let you two get to know each other," Virgil said with a half-smile. Patton beamed and him and sat on the couch, cuddling his new best friend. Virgil sank out before the cuteness became sickening.

But any mushy feelings faded when he appeared in Remus' room. Amid the weapon racks and canopic jars, Remus was curled up on his bed, hiding his head between his knees.

"Octopuppy?" Virgil asked softly and sat next to Remus. The duke looked up at him with his makeup running down his cheeks.

"Scare Bear?"

"What's wrong?" he asked and brushed a stray piece of hair from Remus' face. Remus shook his head and let out a ragged sigh.

"I can't make anything good."

"Your dog is not gonna be happy to hear that."

"She's a hellhound with three heads. She's not good or normal. But she's a good girl," Remus grumbled and wiped his eyes. He was not about to cry again. Virgil coaxed Remus into his lap and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"What makes you think you can't make anything good?"

"I made a cat for Daddykins and I really tried to make her perfect for him. But he screamed at the sight of her. You know, you were there," he pouted and hid his face in Virgil's hoodie. Virgil pouted and held him closer.

"Can I show you something?" he whispered, "Something that can prove you can make something good."

Remus nodded and clung to Virgil as he stood. The emo cradled him to his chest and smiled down at him.

"Looks like you're my damsel this time," he teased and sank out, adoring the blush that crossed Remus' face.

They appeared in the common area kitchen to the sounds of giggles and cooing. Remus looked to Virgil for answers only to get a smirk in return.

"Hey Pat!" Virgil called out and carried Remus into the next room. Patton was curled up in his hoodie, using the string to play with Fluffy. Remus had never seen him so genuinely happy.

"Virge!" he cheered, only to coo at the sight of the gruesome twosome.

"I found Remus, so go ahead and ask."

"Remus, can I keep Fluffy? Please? I'll take good care of her! I promise!"

"I made her for you, so yeah, of course you can," Remus answered, completely stunned. Virgil knew that tone all too well. He had only a matter of seconds before a tsunami of feelings crashed over the duke. He would need cuddles.

"Thank you so much Remus!" Patton squealed and hugged Fluffy, "I'm gonna show her my room!" He sank out, leaving the pair to claim the couch.

"You good, Pup?" Virgil asked and hugged the duke, leaning into the cushions. Remus nodded and nuzzled into his chest.

"Good, because right now you're stuck cuddling with me until my legs fall asleep," Virgil mused and kissed his head. Remus shuddered and his breathing hitched.

"I did good," he whimpered, "I finally did a good and made a good thing."

"Finally? Remus, you make a good thing every day—you make me feel loved. You're my knight in slimy armor."

"That's just cuz I love you."

"I love you too, and I think it's only fair that I get to be your dark knight for a while. Because it's okay to need a little help, even if you don't think you deserve it."

"Who taught you that psychiatry crap?" Remus pouted and hid his face in Virgil's hoodie so no one would see him crying.

"You might know him, he's a wily little imp with a lot of passion, a flair for the dramatic, and macabre tastes. He's a handsome sweetheart and don't even get me started on his butt."

"He sounds like a pain in the neck!" Remus giggled.

"Only if he bites," Virgil snickered, "and he's my hero. So don't you dare try to talk shit about the Grand Duke of the Imagination."

Remus giggled and clung to him. He couldn't ask for a better boyfriend and he was pretty sure he didn't want to either.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #remus sanders #dukexiety #patton sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #sex menton tw #gore mention tw #sandyscribed #what is editing? idk fam

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livingforcoopsandoknutzy · 3 years

Note

56 for the cubs

Hehehe, you probably expected an injury but nah i’m just gonna project on people now

“I can’t feel anything”

Thank our knight in shining armor @lumosinlove for her amazing characters

TW: depression/throwing up

Logan learned the hard way that hiding who you are from people you love and yourself for years can lead to horrible anxiety and depression. He hates that fact and therefore shares it with no one. The only people who know about it are Dumo and Remus, though Leo and Finn suspected.

Most of the time Logan could control it, push it to the back of his mind, or distract himself but one of the many things he had learned was that depression demanded to be felt.

So there were days when he couldn’t get out of bed, days he couldn’t sleep and instead laid in bed all day crying for no specific reason. He could tell it always worried his boys but they responded to it differently. Leo always made sure Logan knew he could talk to him and Finn was always there when he needed a distraction.

He appreciated it, he really did, but there were days where he felt so numb and broken that he questioned their motives. Those were the worst days, when the doubt crept in and told him he was bad for Leo and Finn, that they were far better off without him.

Logan tended to go to Remus or Dumo on those days, unable to face Leo and Finn when he felt like that.

Which was how he found himself in front of Remus and Sirius’s front door, debating on knocking since he hadn’t told them he was coming. After too many minutes of wringing his hands and pacing, he knocked before he could think about it anymore.

There was laughter on the other side of the door before he heard Remus’s voice calling that he’d get the door. Logan’s heart raced as he realized they had company and he spun on his heel, about to walk away before the door opened and Remus grabbed his arm.

“Wait, what’s wrong?” He asked as he gently spun Logan back around so he could look at him. “Nothing’s wrong. Sorry I didn’t realize you had company.” Remus took in his appearance for a second before shaking his head.

“You only ever show up randomly when you’re not doing well.” He paused momentarily, his eyes scanning Logan’s face thoroughly. “Plus, you’ve been crying.” Logan dropped his eyes to the ground. “Is it that obvious?” He asked, his heart sinking impossibly lower. Remus took a step towards his and dropped a comforting hand to his hair. “Only to me. Come on it.”

Logan swallowed roughly and shook his head. “Really, I’ll be alright. I can just go to Dumo’s.” Remus shook his head and pulled Logan lightly into the entryway. “You can’t go there because he’s here. It’s just us, Dumo, and the Potter’s don’t worry about it.”

Picking on the sleeves of his sweatshirt that belonged to Leo, a fact he was trying to ignore because what right did he have to wear this sweatshirt, he stepped into the foyer with Remus.

Remus hugged him tightly, his mouth close to Logan’s ear. “Do you want me or Dumo right now?” He asked quietly. Logan just shut his eyes tightly and shook his head. “I don’t know.” Remus rubbed his back soothingly for a minute. “Okay, do you want to just hang out for a bit?” Logan nodded slowly. “If I’m not intruding.”

Remus laughed quietly as he pulled away. “You’re never intruding.” Logan smiled and followed him quietly. Remus led them to the living room where James and Lily were sitting on the floor with Harry crawling between them, Sirius was sitting on the loveseat and Remus walked over and dropped a kiss to his forehead before sitting in his lap casually. The sight hurt Logan’s heart, his mind automatically going to his worried boyfriends at home.

Dumo was sitting on the couch, his eyes taking in Logan’s appearance as e gestured to the spot next to him. Logan walked over with a fake smile after waving to the Potter’s and Sirius when they welcomed him.

Logan plopped down next to Dumo and laid down so he could put his head in Dumo’s lap. He had good parents, he’d been raised well but they lived in Canada and he rarely saw them so when Dumo had offered him a place to stay it was like he finally had a father again.

Dumo supported him wholeheartedly and while Logan had never flat out told him about his anxiety and depression he knew Dumo knew about it.

Logan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and focused on the feeling of Dumo’s large hand in his hair. “Are you alright, mon fils?” He asked quietly, his voice comforting in a way no one else’s was. Logan nodded stiffly, his eyes venturing to Harry.

They sat in silence listening to the conversation going around them before Dumo lifted his head carefully off his lap. “Come on.” He said quietly to Logan as he walked over to Sirius. “Je vole ta chambre pendant un moment mon fils.” Sirius’s eyes drifted to Logan before he nodded, smiling a bit at Logan as they walked by.

Once they were seated on the guest bed, Dumo pulled Logan’s head back into his lap. “What’s going on?” He said quietly, his voice so caring that Logan felt tears prick his eyes. How can someone care so much about someone so undeserving?

“I’m sick of being broken.” Logan whispered, embarrassed that his tears were already falling. He was such an awful person, he didn’t deserve to cry. “Arrêtez. You’re not broken.” Logan let out a shuddering breath and shook his head.

“I am. My mind doesn’t work like all of yours. If there are too many people around I can’t breathe, I can be happy one moment and the next be completely numb. I love Leo and Finn so much but right now seeing them makes me so sad because I don’t deserve them, I never have. I just want to stop thinking, my brain goes from zero to one hundred all the time. When I’m not terribly depressed I just feel so numb, like no matter what anyone it wouldn’t matter. It’s like I can’t feel anything.”

Dumo stayed silent while Logan ranted, his hand soothing Logan’s dark hair back, the other rubbing his arm comfortingly. Logan was shaking and the tears were uncontrollable, he turned so he could tuck his face into Dumo’s stomach. “I’m just so tired all the time. It’s like I’m drowning.” Logan cried, his voice muffled against the fabric of Dumo’s shirt.

“Je t'ai mon fils, tu vas bien.” Dumo said quietly, his arms tightening around Logan enough to lift him up into a sitting position. “Your mind isn’t broken, it’s just different. I know you get sad and upset a lot and that’s okay, we will always be there for you. Always. Your boys love you so much and I don’t want to hear that you aren’t good enough because you guys wouldn’t work without you, just like how y’all wouldn’t work without Leo or Finn.”

Dumo frowned as Logan buried his head into his neck as Logan’s chest heaved. “I know you’re tired, mon fils, but we would never let you drown.” They sat there for a while neither talking. Dumo let Logan cry it out knowing it would be worse if he didn’t.

After a while of sniffles, Logan pulled away and wiped his eyes which were now so bloodshot that Dumo was slightly concerned. “Sorry,” Logan muttered his eyes on the wet spot on Dumo’s shirt. Dumo just waved it off with a shake of his head. “It’s quite alright. I believe you should go talk to your boys, do you want them to come here or do you want me to drive you back?”

Logan closed his eyes, suddenly very tired. “Do you mind driving me?” Dumo shook his head and hugged the boy who was his son in every way but blood. “I don’t mind but if I know you I doubt you told them where you were going so why don’t you text them while I grab my keys.

Logan laughed softly and nodded, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and shooting Finna and Leo a quick text. Logan walked back to the living room and met Remus’s eyes.

Remus smiled at him kindly and opened his arms for a hug that Logan gave him gratefully. “Go be with your boys, I hope it passes soon.” He said quietly as Logan pulled away. Logan gave him an appreciative smile and walked over to where Dumo was standing by the door, waving bye to everyone.

Once they were in the car Logan turned on Spotify, his phone was always the first to connect in Dumo’s car because Dumo liked country and Logan was voted best DJ. He shuffled his ‘chill vibes’ playlist and laid his head back against the seat letting his eyes fall closed.

They rode in silence until Dumo pulled up to Logan’s apartment. Dumo placed a comforting hand on Logan’s shoulder when it was obvious Logan was making no move to get out of the car. “You’ve got this kid. They love you, they’ll understand.” Logan worried at his bottom lip.

“What if they don’t? What if they think I’m a freak and kick me out? What if they think I’m weak for letting this get to me? What if they think I’m not good enough for them?” Logan turned to look at Dumo, his eyes wide with anxiety. “Mon Dieu, what if they realize I’m not good enough for them?” Dumo narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

“First of all, take some deep breaths. There you go. Okay, secondly they will understand. Logan has anxiety so he’ll understand that and both of them will try their hardest to understand where you’re coming from depression wise. Third of all, they would never ever kick you out and if they did you know you can come to mine, but they won’t.” Dumo clarified, maintaining eye contact with Logan so he could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“You’re not weak for this and screw anyone who makes you think you are. I will personally come over here and punch them if they say something like that. Most importantly, mon fils, is that you are good enough for them. You deserve the world and I know you don’t see that but you’ve been through so much and you’ve been dealt bad hands before but this isn’t one of them. You deserve them just as much as they deserve you so stop thinking of yourself as less.”

Logan nodded slowly, a small smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Père.” Dumo laughed softly and pulled him into a tight hug before unlocking the door and letting Logan out. “I’ll be with Remus and Sirius if you need me. Text me when your done and I can get you so you can get your car from Remus’s.” Logan gave him a thumbs up and made his way into the apartment building.

Logan took the stairs so he had more time to think about what he was going to say to Leo and Finn.

He knew that they wouldn’t think any less of him but he was so scared they would reject him that he was starting to get physically sick. His stomach was churning and all he wanted to do was lay down and wait it out but he had to talk to Leo and Finn first, they deserved that much.

Logan stumbled slightly on his way into the apartment, his throat burning in the tell tale sign he was about to be sick. Finn and Leo were on the couch and both of them looked over when they heard the door open.

“Lo, are you okay?” Logan was about to answer Finn when his stomach flipped again and he all but ran to the bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of the toilet just in time. It only took a minute for Finn and Leo to join him, Finn rubbing his back soothingly as Leo got a cold rag and pressed it to the back of his neck.

He shuddered as he gagged a few more times before he allowed Finn to pull him into his lap. He was crying again but he felt an overwhelming numb feeling settling over him and he closed his eyes tightly.

Leo rested his forehead against Logan’s and brought his hands up to cup Logan’s tearstained face. “Baby, you have to tell us what’s going on. This will only get worse if you don’t let us in.” Logan’s breath stuttered and he felt tears slip down his face.

He opened his eyes briefly and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked terrible. His eyes were red and bloodshot, tear tracks clear on his cheeks. He closed his eyes again not wanting to look anymore. He already had a headache from crying but the tears wouldn’t stop.

“I’m so sorry.” Logan said quietly. Finn tightened his hold around Logan’s waist and rested his chin on Logan’s shoulder, Leo pressed their foreheads together with more force. “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Finn said, dropping a soft kiss to Logan’s shoulder.

Logan just shook his head. “I do. I’m sorry I get like this, I know it makes you worry. I’m sorry I can’t be happy when I have more than enough reason to be. I’m just sorry for being like this, you both deserve so much more. You would be better off without me.”

It fell silent and Leo leaned away from him, an unreadable expression on his face. Logan froze for a moment, terrified that they would agree with him. When it stayed silent he squirmed, trying to get out of Finn’s arms but Finn seemed to snap out of it and tightened his grip while Leo reached forward to push the hair that had fallen in his face.

Leo’s unreadable expression shifted and tears gathered in his eyes. “Logan, no.” Logan flinched at the use of his read name and Finn pulled him back into his chest so Logan could relax against him.

“Baby, you can’t help it. We know you can’t help it, we understand. You don’t have to always be happy Lo, no one is. You shouldn’t be sorry for any of it, please don’t apologize for that.” Leo said softly, tears falling slowly down his face. Logan frowned and raised his hand to wipe them away, Leo made a sad noise and nuzzled into the touch.

Finn kissed his shoulder gently again before resting his forehead there. “I’m glad you think we deserve so much but so do you, Lo. You deserve just as much as we do and you best bet your sorry ass that we are not better off without you no matter what you think. You make us us and we wouldn’t trade you for the world.” Finn said, his voice authoritative and strong.

Logan closed his eyes tightly and brought Leo closer pulling him into a hug and relishing in the feeling of having both his boys arms around him. “I love you both so much.” Logan said, his voice cracking through tears.

Leo pulled back with a wet laugh and stood up holding his hands out to Logan to help him up. Logan took them and let himself be hauled up before turning to help Finn up. He was a little shocked to see silent tears falling down Finn’s face.

Logan knelt back down in front of him, his thumbs wiping away the tears while his other fingers cupped Finn’s face. “Why are you crying?” Logan asked softly, retracting his hands when Finn stood up. Logan stood up too and was quickly pulled into the middle of a tight hug from Leo and Finn.

“Did you really think we would care? Or that you weren’t worth it?” Finn asked quietly, his face buried in Logan’s hair. Logan shuddered and let out a shaky breath. “Yes? Logically I knew you wouldn’t but I can’t help but think it, if that makes sense.” He added, suddenly scared that they would judge him for thinking that way.

Leo kissed the top of his head and shook his head. “I get that. But mon chéri, we don’t think of you any differently or less if that’s what you’re worried about. If anything we’re grateful you told us, at least we understand a bit more. We can help better now that we know what’s wrong.” Logan couldn’t bite back the sob that tore through him.

Leo looked at him anxiously. “Did I say something wrong?” He asked anxiously, pulling away so he could tilt Logan’s head towards his own. Finn laughed softly, his arms still wrapped around Logan’s stomach in a way Logan appreciated more than he could say.

“No, you said just the right thing.” Finn said quietly. He had just barely finished his sentence before Logan smashed his mouth against Leo’s.

Leo made a shocked noise before kissing back hotly. Finn made an appreciative sound and started kissing Logan’s neck, sucking hard on certain places he knew unwound Logan.

Logan pulled back from Leo and brought Finn’s mouth up to meet his own and stuck his tongue forcefully into Finn’s mouth. Leo groaned and attached his lips to Finn’s shoulder, slowly making his way up Finn’s neck.

Leo pulled back after a moment, panting slightly. “As much as I love this and want to ravish both of you very much right now, I think we should get out of the bathroom and take this to the bedroom.” Logan laughed against Finn’s mouth and pulled away, Finn bit his bottom lip gently as he pulled away before letting go.

Logan briefly wondered why he had been so upset at the idea of telling them what was upsetting them so much. His boys always knew exactly what to say and exactly what to do when it came to him.

Now that his ‘secret’ was out Leo and Finn became very good at telling when Logan got in his slumps. Logan had to admit that their distractions were pretty effective and he enjoyed it a lot, but the times he really loved were when they sat down and talked him through it.

Tonight though, tonight was a good distraction.

#o'knutzy #finn o'hara #leo knot #logan tremblay #sw #sweater weather #coast to coast #c2c #fanfics for a fanfic #lumosinlove

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shortprince-cos · 4 years

Text

The Woes Of An Emo

Summary: Virgil wants at least one rehearsal to not go wrong. Also, he's a simp. Also, I apologize in advance.

Warnings: Angst, mental breakdown, anxiety, swearing, miscommunication. Tell me if I need to ask anything else!

Note: Happy Asides day!!!! (hopefully it is, this was written in advance) Remember to tag your spoilers for a week and to respect everyone's opinions!!!!

{Masterlist} {Previous}

Chapter 7: Typical Day?

~~~~~

By next Monday, everyone knew that Patton and Logan were dating. They kept holding hands in the hallway, walking each other to class, and even flirting in front of everyone.

Virgil was a little jealous, though he didn't want to admit it. They were just so cute doing those couple-y things, and Virgil wanted to do that with someone. Well, not just someone, Princey and/or Roman.

Right. Roman. Virgil almost forgot about his crisis for a minute. He has confirmed that yes, he does apparently have a crush on Roman. Great. The guy he just rejected. Wonderful. The guy who probably didn't want anything the do with Virgil at the moment. Perfect.

How could he not, though? Roman, who got almost every lead in the musicals. Roman, who called teachers out on their unfairness. Roman, who's eyes lit up whenever he talked about Disney or musicals. Who could fight someone for hours if he had the motivation. Who, when he flirted, could drop his voice so unbearably low it sent shivers down Virgil's spine.

And oh goodness, Princey. Princey is amazing. He talks like he'll run out of time. Types like Virgil's the most important thing in the world. He also loves Disney and musicals and talks about them like theres no tomorrow. He just cares so much about Virgil, letting him vent about his anxieties, and even tells Virgil all of his deepest secrets and insecurities.

Oh, heh, guess we've been rambling, huh?

Needless to say, Virgil was not doing that good. The amount of stress was driving him mad. Everything was just too much; waiting for Princey to be better, trying to not get overwhelmed by Patton's friendliness, trying not to make everyone mad or disappointed with him, finding out he actually does have a crush on Roman, hoping Roman isn't mad at him, being the prop master for the musical, and even just schoolwork. It was exhausting.

By next Friday his dads wanted him to stay home and take a 'mental health day', but Virgil couldn't miss rehearsal or he'd probably get kicked from the show.

Speaking of the show, Virgil was currently sweeping up the auditorium seats when he heard a familiar voice.

"Virgil!" Gabi the stage manager called. "Please clean up the prop room, the actors messed up the organization."

"Yeah, sure. I'll lock up too, if you want?"

Gabi handed Virgil the keys. "You're a lifesaver, Virge. If we were getting paid, you'd get a raise."

"It's no problem." Virgil said bashfully.

"Thank you anyway!" Gabi said as she walked out of the auditorium.

So Virgil made his way over to the prop room, and started cleaning up the fiasco that the actors left behind.

It wasn't until fifteen minutes later when his phone buzzed, alerting him of a message.

He quickly looked at his phone to find a message from Princey! Virgil hasn't heard from him for awhile, so he was getting a little worried, but apparently he was doing a little better if he was talking to him again!

princeofyourdreams: call me please

Or not?

That was...not a normal message. Virgil's anxiety immediately spiked at the thought of calling Princey.

onthevirgeofananxietyattack: princey, u know how i feel about random calls

princeofyourdreams: i know im sorry but please

Virgil hesitated. Princey sounded not ok and obviously Virgil had to do something, but the idea of calling him was a lot to handle, especially when Virgil was, as his username said, on the verge of an anxiety attack because of everything going on at the moment, and one more bad thing could probably break him.

He hit call anyway.

"P-Princey?" Virgil asked nervously.

"Hey anx." Princey was obviously crying, and Virgil's heart shattered. But...something was familiar.

"Are you ok? What's wrong?"

"Everything. Everything's wrong. It has been for so long and I tried so hard to be ok but now I'm really not ok." Princey was full on sobbing now, and Virgil didn't know what he could do to help.

"Hey, hey. It's ok, just focus on my voice ok?"

Roman just sobbed more in response, and Virgil swore he heard an echo from somewhere.

It must be his imagination.

Virgil softened his voice. "Hey, Princey, it's going to be ok, whatever's wrong right now will be ok in the end, I promise."

"How-" He choked "How can you say that when-when you don't even know what's happening."

"Just tell me and I can help." Virgil wandered out of the prop room to pace while talking.

"If I tell you, you-you won't care. I'm surprised you don't not care already." He gasped for some more air as Virgil heard something shifting in the men's dressing room.

"Princey breathe." Virgil turned to the dressing room door. "I care about you. I promise. I won't stop caring about you for something like this."

Princey took a big breath. "THEN WHY ARE YOU PLAYING ME?!" He screamed, and so did the dressing room door.

Suddenly everything was silent except for the heavy breathing over the phone and through the door.

What did that mean? Was he mad at Virgil? What did Virgil do? And, oh yeah, was Princey actually behind that door?

Well, screw anxiety, theres only one way to find out.

He knocked on the door, and heard the knock through the phone.

"P-Princey?"

"Y-Yeah?"

Virgil took a deep breath and opened the door.

"...Hey, Virgil."

~~~~~

{Next}

HAHAHAHAHAHA THAT'S RIGHT! IT'S A CLIFFHANGER! Y'all knew the angst was gonna spill out at sometime, I'm just surprised that it took this long! Sorry this one is really short, I didn't really know what to do to get to this point. So I just wrote Virgil simping for two paragraphs lol

@irritating-lady-knight I hope you liked your small cameo! Surprise!

Thanks to @thefingergunsgirl (Emma! Ily!) for beta reading this chapter! It was a big help!!!!!

Taglist in reblog

Reblogs are appreciated!💖

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #kawaiikat54 fic #twoae fic #the woes of an emo fic #prinxiety fic #prinxiety #ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #sanders sides high school au

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greenninjagal-blog · 3 years

Text

Trouble

Hi yeah its me, and look I’m already back with a new fic for the new year :D cherish this moment I don’t think i will have have this turn around so quick again. For the TSS Fanworks Secret Santa Exchange because I was a pinch hitter :DD @nerdywriterhaven I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Patton has a thing about boardgames and Virgil has a thing about Logan. Together they figure it out.

Word Count: 7900

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Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

Patton shows up at Virgil’s dorm room just slightly after six pm on a Tuesday with two thermoses of soup that are still warm to the touch, a halloween tupperware of chocolate chip cookies that had been passed between him and Virgil so many times that Patton really doesn’t remember whose it was originally, his laptop, phone, the chargers for both, and the board game Trouble.

Virgil, predictably, shuts the door in his face the second he sees the game box hidden under all the other things in his arms. Patton also thinks that Virgil tells him to go away, but it’s muddled by the door.

Instead he shuffles all the supplies to his left arm and knee, and knocks again on his door just below the leftover tape from the nametag that his RA keeps putting up and Virgil keeps ripping down because he doesn’t want anyone knowing where he sleeps. His knuckles hum with the rap, datatata dat dat! And he smiles even when there’s the sound of something being thrown at the door from that side.

Patton chooses not to hear it because he’s a good friend and an even more stubborn houseguest.

The door a little bit down the hall opens up with the usual fanfare of someone who is running late to a night class-- which of course is the charm of Roman Prince. He looks nice, as usual, and Patton even thinks that if he hadn’t been wearing two different colored shoes, no one would even know that he had probably just woken up from a nap. The music of his room blares out into the hall with a rap song Patton thinks is Hip With the Kids these days, but Patton himself can’t make out any of the actual words.

All the much better because he’s pretty sure it’s Remus’s music and Remus likes his songs like he likes just about everything else: dirty, scandalous, and offensive. Not that Patton is good friends with either of the Prince siblings, but he’s heard the rumors floating around about both. Roman smiles at him, with glittering white teeth and dimples and soft warm brown eyes that could have been made of melted chocolate.

“Oh! What a spectre!” Roman says, seeming to forget that he’s on the way to a class at the sight of Patton standing at Virgil’s door. “Tell me, angel, what brings a glorious sight such as you to our dorm buildings on this amazing day?”

Virgil’s door swings back open before Patton can answer and Virgil hisses from the darkness, the way he’s usually prone to do whenever Roman or Remus or their blatant disregard for the rules about music volume at two AM is brought up.

He looks not much better from the glimpse Patton got before the door was closed in his face earlier: he’s still pale to the point of looking sickly and dressed in the same clothes as yesterday, with his eye shadow smeared and his hair not brushed at all. There’s a red imprint on the side of his face that Patton thinks matches a crease in his blankets or pillows from where he probably tried to suffocate himself on and off all day between anxiously texting Patton all about “the absolute worst day of my entire life and no I’m not even exaggerating this time Pat”.

“Hi Virgil!” Patton says, as Virgil reaches forward and to take a thermos and the tupperware from his arms and glare unbidenedly at Roman. “I brought dinner!”

“I hate you,” Virgil says, and does not mean because he loves Patton’s Broccoli Cheddar Cheer Up Soup and he’s been in need of cheering up since Patton had seen his messages at noon on his way to his second class of the day.

Roman gasps like he’s offended on behalf of Patton who is not offended as much as endeared to his best friend of several years. “Virgil! How could you act so callus towards a beautiful muse such as this?”

“Get lost, Princey,” Virgil tells him firmly, grumpily, Virgil-ly. “He came here specifically to make a pun about my pain.”

“I do it with love,” Patton adds. “And I brought cookies to make up for it.”

Roman looks like he doesn’t know what to do with that information and Virgil doesn’t give him time to find out because he kinda hates Roman-- although Patton always tells him that “hate” is a strong word and Virgil always says he means it anyway. Patton supposes that if he, too, had hallmates that played music louder than life up to the early hours of the mornings during Finals Week, and then cranked it higher when he knocked on the door to ask them to stop, he might also strongly dislike them.

Virgil ushers Patton into the dark room and then kicks the door closed while Patton is waving goodbye at Roman.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light level: Virgil was certainly making use of those thick blackout curtains! It made the whole room look like it was three AM, rather than six PM! There are blobs of stuff all around the room, piles of clothes and blankets that Virgil prefers to have on the floor rather than put somewhere where he’s not going to trip over it in the middle of the night, but Patton supposes that’s just how Virgil’s always been.

“If someone breaks in, they’re gonna trip over this shit and I will be out of here long before they can get back up,” Virgil had said the first time Patton had suggested maybe, possibly cleaning something until they found the floor.

The desk where Virgil did his school work is empty and the textbooks and computer that normally covered it are all on the ground like a massacre from what Patton can make out. Virgil shuffles through the room and ends up turning on the purple lava lamp that Patton got him three years ago so that they could at least see each other and the faux-floor, and even then he doesn’t look happy at needing that much. The elevated bed had the blankets ripped up from it and turned into a nest with Virgil’s phone light peeking out from the depths like some underwater cave with a sea monster in it waiting for an unsuspecting diver.

“Remind me, how you got into this building?” Virgil says, tiredly as he pries open the cookie container. “It requires a key and last time I checked, you don’t have one of those, Pat.”

“As if a key would stop me from checking on you!” Patton replies. He plops himself on a pile of clothes and clears away another spot for Virgil to collapse next to him, so that Virgil can’t exactly escape. “Now, what is this about Logan again? You were being kinda vague and world-ending-y again. ”

Virgil lets out a moan around the cookie he shoved in his mouth and drops to the floor next to Patton, to munch angrily or just upsetly without actually offering an answer, because he’s Virgil and he’s allergic to talking about things that upset him. Patton sets down his other thermos, his laptop, and his own phone to make room for the game between them.

“Must we?” Virgil asks as Patton sets up the board with a practiced hand. Even in the near darkness of the room he knows exactly what he’s doing, and could probably figure it out with no light at all.

“Of course!” Patton says. “You sounded like you were in Trouble.”

“ Sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s rather Risk -y of you to be self deprecating while within hugging distance.”

Virgil doesn’t say anything for a moment, just swallows the bite of his cookie and stares at the colored pieces in front of him. The board game is well worn and well loved-- one of the first ones Patton had ever gotten and one of the first ones he ever convinced Virgil to play with him. Although “convinced” is a strong word for how Patton had just been staring at the board numbly with red rimmed eyes when his father had asked Virgil to come over and try to coax him into eating something, anything, please .

They’d lost three pieces of the red team and one of the yellow and two of the green, but that’s okay because Patton generally played blue and Virgil had custom ordered four purple pieces for just the two of them a few years ago.

Carefully, placatingly, Virgil reaches a hand forward and pops the dice bubble for his number. He gets a four.

Patton gets a five.

“How many times have we played this one, Pat?” Virgil asks, in a voice much softer than before. In the faded purple light and the shadows, it’s hard to see the number on the die, and harder to see exactly what Virgil is thinking about with his eyes hidden like that. His nails are bitten down to the quick, ruining the black nail polish he spent an hour applying last weekend over their shared Biology notes.

Patton shrugs as he reaches forward to take his turn and pops the bubble. Honestly he didn’t think he could calculate the answer if Virgil pressed: this was their go-to game, this was his go-to pun, this is what they did even when the world was falling apart at the seams. It was easier to focus on moving playing pieces a couple pegs than it was to focus on the sound of a heart monitor or raspy breathing or bony pale fingers that shook when they tried to hold anything.

It was easier to find a way to win when the instructions were so clear, and the rules were so fair, and the consequences of losing were just having to put the game back in the box.

Virgil doesn’t say anything more and Patton doesn’t force him to, although he desperately wants to. He wants to reach out and catch Virgil’s hands in his own, he wants to give him a squeeze, he wants to wipe away the tear tracks in his makeup and he wants to tell Virgil that whatever it is, Patton will be there for him.

He wants Virgil to look at a game for once and have fun.

But the only sound in the room is the popper when they roll the die back and forth.

Patton gets the six first. He moves his second leftmost piece to the start and hits it again for a three.

Virgil stares his blue piece on the board for a long moment, without blinking. His hands lie limply in his lap and the tub of cookies sits at his knee. The purple light makes his eyes glisten sweetly, wetly, sadly, with a resignation that Patton knows and wishes he doesn’t. The lump in his throat swells up.

“Virgil?”

Virgil blinks. And then blinks again.

“Why should I even bother at this point?” he asks. He runs a hand up to his hair and tugs at the locks.

“Virgil, this is the opening of the game,” Patton says. “You can’t give up alrea--”

“But it’s not like I’m going to win,” Virgil says and Patton sucks in a breath sharply.

Oh. It was one of those days.

Patton thinks that he should have been expecting this; it had been a decent amount of time since Virgil last had refused to finish a game, and Patton had almost thought that maybe they had kicked those thoughts for good! That through sheer willpower and perseverance and proof to the contrary, they might have managed to rework how Virgil approached a challenge. That at one point Virgil might laugh and smile even when he wasn’t in the lead--

And yet, Patton’s sitting with one piece three spaces ahead of Virgil and Virgil is ready to call it quits. The game had just started. Patton had only been sitting in the room for a total of five minutes. Virgil hadn’t talked for more than a couple sentences.

It’s one of those days, except that Patton doesn’t think that it’s ever been this bad before, because usually they at least made it to the one piece around the board in Trouble , through to one check in Chess , through to one hotel being built in Monopoly , or one train ticket completed in Ticket to Ride .

“This is a sign, isn’t it?” Virgil continues. “I’m just being stupid even considering it. Of course I am. I always am. Nevermind, I don’t want to do this today Pat. Thanks for the soup and the cookies and I’m sorry that I made you walk all the way--”

Patton reaches out and snags Virgil’s arm before he can get all the way off the ground. The board nudges to the side dislodging several pieces into the surrounding void, but Patton thinks that he can replace a hundred playing pieces.

He cannot replace his best friend.

Virgil’s skin is cold, even though the room was comfortably warm, and he’s soft to the touch-- which is never what Patton expects when he gets those lightning quick hugs, when Virgil rests his head on his shoulder during movie nights, when they go shopping and there are crowds that make Virgil want to run for the hills and only Patton’s hand in his keeps him grounded there. Virgil is soft despite the jagged persona he puts on to drive away other people, and he hasn’t gotten any sort of touch in a while because he shuts up the moment that Patton’s own warmth floods over him.

The room holds the silence for an eternity: Virgil frozen halfway up from the ground, and Patton latching on to him like he can pluck all the reasons Virgil is upset out of his mind through osmosis. The lava lamp makes him look unreal, makes the silence ring louder, makes the lump in Patton’s throat grow larger.

“Virgil,” Patton says, “please.”

Please tell me what I can do. Please allow me to help. Please let me in.

“It’s stupid,” Virgil says.

Patton wants to laugh, because nothing that ever hurts Virgil has ever been stupid. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”

Virgil bites his lip and inhales with all of his chest.

“You didn’t go to any classes today. You’ve been crying. You’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes.” Patton says. “Something happened. And it can’t possibly be stupid because nothing that affects you like this is can be anything less than something huge.”

Patton feels Virgil’s hand curl into a fist like he can hide his shaking when Patton is right there .

“Do you remember Logan Ackroyd,” Virgil says. “The senior a year older than us who I had Sociology with last year?”

The same Logan who took extra notes for when Virgil missed class and emailed them to him. The same Logan who offered Virgil a granola bar when he overheard that Virgil had missed lunch. The same Logan who helped Virgil break into the auditorium after school hours to search for his missing earbuds.

The same Logan who has eyes more knowledgeable than the entire galaxy, who wears a tie to class, who smells like coffee beans and pen ink and looks like he’d give really good, safe hugs.

The same Logan who Patton has never once met, but feels like he knows intimately thanks to Virgil’s starstruck rambles.

Logan must be something great and amazing. Patton has known that for a year now, from watching the months slip away and suddenly the ghost of Logan joins them on every outing, summoned by the blush over Virgil’s ears and the soft smile on his lips and the way that Virgil steadfastly won’t meet Patton’s eyes like it will prevent Patton from noticing the way that the senior is always on Virgil’s mind. Logan is kind. Logan is smart. Logan has a new book every day. Logan has a voice like the ocean waves.

Logan, Patton thinks, should have been more careful if he caused Virgil this much distress. Because there are things that Patton would do for Virgil that not even a cold blooded killer would consider doing.

“Yeah,” Patton says, with a smile soft and dumb and innocent. “You guys have Analytical Science together this year, right?”

Virgil lets go of his lip, and breathes out a breath that sounds like more relief than Patton is supposed to hear. “Yeah. Yeah. He, uh… yeah.” Virgil shifts back down, shifts so that he’s on his knees and Patton is right next to him, and they’re still touching and that warmth is stronger than the shadows made by the blobs in the lava lamp.

“Janus… Janus asked him out yesterday,” Virgil says, using his other hand to pluck at a thread in his jeans.

Oh. Patton doesn’t think cookies and soup were enough.

And golly, Patton doesn’t think Logan is as smart as Virgil is always saying he is either, because if he said yes in front of Virgil, he must have been the stupidest person on the planet.

Virgil is quiet, dismissible, a shadow in his own skin even on his best days. But he is not un-noticeable.

He carries an aura around himself that storms and thunders and promises danger to those that get too close. His laughter is a threat first and a comfort second. His smile is a knife blade that even Patton sometimes wonders if he might find in his back one day. Virgil was someone that you noticed and you stayed the fudge away from.

Unless you were Patton, who hadn’t been afraid of Death from the moment he watched his mother cough up blood over the cards to CandyLand, watched his mother turn into a real-life game of Operation, watched her breathing get ragged and her fingers struggle to hold playing cards between them.

Logan hadn’t been scared away by Virgil’s thunder, and somehow he had weathered the storm that Virgil put up to protect himself and lived securely in the eye of the hurricane. And somehow he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t cared, had taken advantage of Virgil’s softening heart just to shatter it.

“He didn’t…” Virgil says. “Janus… he didn’t really mean it. I don’t think. It might have been a joke because they’re friends but Logan told everyone that he would only consider dating someone who could… could…”

“Could what?”

Virgil’s eyes flick down to the Trouble game board, to the pieces lost in chaos of the floor, to the box they hadn’t needed except for transport. Patton feels his heart thud in his chest before he crawls up his throat and he tastes it in his mouth along with the remains of the raw cookie dough he licked off the spoon while cleaning up.

Virgil’s words come back to him in whispers. But it’s not like I’m going to win. This is a sign, isn’t it? I’m just being stupid even considering it.

“Someone who could….” Patton says, “beat him in a boardgame?”

Virgil yanks the thread on his jeans sharply and nods without meeting Patton’s eyes. “I told you it was stupid.”

“Virgil,” Patton says. “This is great! We’ve been playing games together for years! You can beat--”

“That’s the thing!” Virgil says with his shoulders curling up to his ears and burying him in layers of excess fabric. “Pat, I can’t even beat you in a board game and I know all your strategies!”

“I don’t think that Trouble actually has any strategies. It’s really luck of the roll--”

Virgil peeks out of his hood enough to give Patton a miserable glare. “When was the last time I won against you, Pat? Be honest.”

Patton purses his lips. “I don’t think that’s fair, kiddo. I’ve been playing games since I was able to understand the rules--”

“You don’t even remember, do you.”

“It was Dominos and you won by twenty points.”

“Nice try, but you purposely miscounted and you actually won by two.” Virgil reaches out for another cookie and offers it to Patton without making any move to pull his other hand from Patton’s hold.

“You would have a lot more wins if you didn’t insist on not finishing games sometimes!” Patton says. “You never know the ending of a game until you play it out!”

“I could tell you that Logan was going to beat Janus in Chess the moment the opening moves were made,” Virgil counters. “He won in twelve moves and then the next game in six.”

Patton opens his mouth, but Virgil shoves the cookie in before he can actually say anything.

“And God Rest Remy’s soul because Logan obliterated him in Trivia Pursuit.” Virgil continues, “He turned Roman to mincemeat over Scrabble, and not only beat Remus in Poker, but won one hundred dollars off him too. I also watched him win in Othello against some kid he tutored in Calc, a game of Mancala with an art kid who was doing it for clout, and Stratego which he won before I finished reading the fuuuuuudging rules and made his opponent cry over it.”

Patton swallows down a bite of cookie that he didn’t not chew well enough because he feels it tear up his esophagus as it goes. Virgil politely ignores him dying for a second and offers him his own thermos of soup to help it down, before remembering that he’s supposed to be brooding and staring at Patton for too long makes him soft.

“Not to make a pun here, but no dice; I legitimately cannot beat Logan,” Virgil says. “He’s just… so good. At everything. What is the point in humiliating myself with this? Even if I find a game so obscure that he’s never heard of it and doesn’t have a strategy built for it, just going up to him and putting the board between us is like-- that’s telling him that I’ve had this massive stupid crush on him for ages and what if he doesn’t even like me? What if I win and then he has to date me because he said so but he actually hates me? What if--”

Patton coughs so hard he thinks he might have dislodged his own lung, which is fine!! Because at least it got Virgil to snap back to him and table his panicky spiral for later.

“Weren’t you,” Patton croaks, “Weren’t you already going to confess to him? You bought the chocolate kisses and you sent me pictures of them in your bag right before class last week.”

Patton can’t see Virgil’s ears because of his hood but he knows that they’re glowing red from the way that Virgil can’t meet his eyes again.

“I just….I did but then he….” Virgil nudges a pile of questionably clean band t-shirts with his socked foot. “He said he wasn’t interested because class was starting and I still don’t know if he meant an actual kiss or a Hershey kiss because he had to leave class early to pick up his kid brother from his middle school because he was sick with a fever and then I was too mortified to bring it back up-- See Pat, I can’t even come up with a creative way to tell Logan that I wanna listen to him ramble about jellyfish immortality and play with his hair or tell him that I wanna know what the flavor of his chapstick is-- which, by the way, I did say to him and he told me was cake batter and that I could find it at the corner drugstore because he thought I was looking for recommendations-- There is no way to subtly tell him that I want to date him.”

“Then maybe… don’t be subtle?” Patton suggests, and then points at the game between them. “Boardgame?”

Virgil scowls at the game like it had personally offended him. “But I can’t beat him. And if I lose and by some miracle he still wants to be seen with me, then he’d be breaking the very rules he set up and everyone else who lost is going to be pissed at both of us and I can’t do that to Logan.”

Patton bites back the then don’t lose that he wants to say. It seems so obvious to him. He doesn’t really see why Virgil doesn’t think he can win one single game. There isn’t even a rule that says Virgil can’t come back and play again-- which isn’t that the point of games? That you can play them for a little while, pack them up, and then come back to them later? That you sit down with friends-maybe-more and you play and have fun ?

Not for the first time, and not for the last time, Patton wonders why Virgil ever played games with him at all. He knows the first time was pity because he found Patton sitting on the floor of his bedroom with Trouble on the ground in front of him and staring at it numbly because he had cried all the tears out of himself already at the hospital, at the funeral, at the everything that had come after that he couldn’t remember. The first time it had been to get Patton to react because he had been so lost, but every time after that Virgil had made the conscious decision to pick up the pieces.

Even if sometimes he had put them back down halfway through and Patton hadn’t figured out how to convince him that the point isn’t to win as much as it is to have fun.

Virgil twists his wrist loosely in Patton’s grip so that he’s holding Patton back, his cold fingers somehow feeling comforting rather than startling. Patton has always loved that about him, although he’s never sure how that works. The coolness of his touch is familiar, but the vulnerability of Virgil reaching out is something newer, something special, something fragile and Virgil holds onto him like he’s expecting Patton to let go at any moment and Patton steadfastly refuses to let him drift off. Patton squeezes his wrist gently, lightly, softly.

I’m here. I’m not leaving. We’re in this together.

“I think that Logan can make decisions for himself,” Patton says with words so featherlight they barely move the air. “Remember the dominos? Any player can choose to lose, whether it be miscounting or it be refusing to finish the game in the end. But if you never even offer to play with him… Logan can’t make that choice, Virgil.”

Virgil holds his gaze for a moment, two, three, and there’s something in his eyes that shies away from the glow of the light, something slippery and weak and scared. Something that Patton is afraid to put a name to, lest it disappear from him forever.

Something that causes Virgil to squeeze his wrist back.

Together. Us. We’ve got this.

“So what game do you want to play with Logan?” Patton asks. “We can go look at my collection if you want? I loaned out Backgammon to a girl in my Shakespearean class, but other than that I have the usuals with me.”

Virgil takes a deep breath. “Can we…” He says. “Do it tomorrow? I don’t want…” He squeezes Patton’s wrist again and Patton can fill in the rest of the blanks with his own interpretations. He is, after all, fluent in Virgilese, as much as Virgil is fluent in Pattonish.

“Yeah, yeah,” Patton says and shifts through the piles of clothes that act as cushions so he’s right next to Virgil, pressing their shoulders together, leaning his head on Virgil’s collarbone, and reaching around him for another cookie. Virgil moves the tub between them and then pulls the Trouble game board in front of that.

He hesitates for another moment-- they’re missing two of Patton’s blue pieces to the floor, and one of Virgil’s purples to a pile of sweatshirts-- but the fact that Virgil drops forward and presses the bubble to roll the die makes Patton’s chest warm.

He gets a six, and then a four and that thing in his eyes seems to grow just a bit stronger.

That is, of course, when the rap music from next door starts up loud enough to shake the entire room and Patton wonders if Logan would still be up for playing a game with Virgil when he’s incarcerated for second degree murder.

Patton, at least, gets a hug out of it, when he tackles Virgil to the ground before he can get to the door, and he manages to coax Virgil back to their area, back to the floor, back to the game, and then later into the blanket-fort-and-movie-night that they watch with one earbud each and their foreheads pressed together late into the night.

***

Patton’s mother developed lung cancer when he was seven. He remembers it in vague flashes: the blood, the shakiness, her fall to the floor because they had never had any sign of it happening until it was too late to do much about it. He was told it was because his maternal grandparents both smoked a lot when she was growing up and she spent the weekends helping them around the house still.

The doctors said she had a year. She got eighteen months.

He barely remembers her face from his own memories anymore, all of them blurred and twisted by the passage of time that he almost got swept away in entirely. Her picture still hangs around the house, though, and he guesses he’s lucky in that regard. He liked how he could see her every time he passed by the stairs, even after his dad remarried and he had grown up and the telemarketers stopped calling the house to tell her that there was an interesting charge on the credit card she didn’t have anymore.

He still wakes up sometimes with his heart beating in his ears and his eyes blinded with tears and his lungs refusing to cooperate because of nightmares about forgetting her entirely, of seeing her stand up to call out to his dad, of seeing her cough out blood and then fall to the floor right in front of him as his dad is running down the stairs. He still wakes up and feels his heart aching where she might have once been if everything had gone just a little bit different. He still wakes up and wishes that he could go back to sleep because at least in his dreams she’s still there waiting with a deck of cards and a smile that says, “Alright, Buster, don’t think I’m going to go easy on you this time!”

Usually those types of days he labels as “Bad Ones”, and he finds it harder to crawl from under his blankets to do pretty much anything.

Virgil knows immediately when he sees Patton staring at his black laptop screen that it’s a Bad One.

Patton loves that he knows not to ask, hates that Virgil can read him so easily, wants to cry because it’s been so long and shouldn’t the edges of that pain have gone away by now? He wants to pull Virgil’s purple comforter back over them and drift back off into the blissful warmth while pretending that the idea of a game right now didn’t make his hands shake.

She hadn’t left Patton specifically a lot of things, but the things that she had left him had been boardgames. Things that she had collected over the years and kept on a shelf in the study for them to play after work and school: Candyland, Trouble, Snakes and Ladders. She had a whole shelf for him when he got to an age where he could understand more complex concepts: Ticket to Ride, Pandemic, Mysterium, Star Realms, Settlers of Catan.

After she was gone… Patton had stared at that shelf and wondered if she had ever thought that maybe she wouldn’t get a chance to play some of them with him.

He wonders how many of them he could have beat her at, how many of them she might let him win in, how many of them they would love to play together and how many of them they would both play through once and then wrinkle their noses at because it wasn’t what they thought it was going to be.

He wonders and maybe it’s a bit too much because he’s stomach is rolling nauseously and he thinks that if he has to look at a game he’ll actually throw up this time.

Virgil doesn’t say anything, even as he gets up and Patton remains buried under too many blankets and the alarm on his phone goes off again for his morning class. The darkness is safe and warm and Patton thinks he understands why Virgil likes it so much as he closes his eyes and tries not to think of a woman who is long gone and in the ground.

“Breakfast?” Virgil whispers at some point.

“Cookies,” Patton mumbles back.

Virgil had carted a hand through his curls and then the door to the room had opened closed and locked behind him. Patton thinks that was nice of him-- to lock the door like he was protecting anyone from coming in and stealing his valuables even though Patton was there. Or maybe since Patton was there? Patton presses his head into a pillow that smells vaguely like chocolate cherries and black licorice and other things that screamed Virgil, and thinks that Virgil might consider Patton a valuable that needs to be protected and kept safe.

Sometime later Patton wakes up with Virgil lying beside him, headphones on and typing on his computer with one hand while dragging fingers through Patton’s curls with the other. It’s impressive of him by itself, but not nearly as impressive as the fact that Virgil’s hood is down and the blackout curtains are parted enough to bring in a decent amount of light.

Virgil blinks at him and removes one earmuff. “I read that flowers need sunlight to grow,” he says in lieu of explaining the rays of light cascading into the room over the two of them.

Patton wants to laugh, and thinks he might if it were any other day and not this one. He settles for a somewhat bent smile and Virgil reaches to somewhere he can’t see and brings back a muffin from the Campus Cafe.

“Chocolate Chip,” he says. “Which is like a cookie, but better because it’s a muffin and I said so.”

Patton can’t really tell if the tears that prick in his eyes are from the lingering sadness or the softness of just a simple gesture from his best friend. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither.

It’s a muffin, not something he should be crying over, and he repeats it even as he takes a bite from the top and Virgil pretends like he doesn’t see Patton scrubbing his cheeks as he chews. It’s a muffin, but Virgil got it just for him and Virgil came right back here and sat with him so he wouldn’t wake up alone and sad and and and--

And if Patton liked anyone romantically like that(™) he thinks he would have fallen straight into love with Virgil.

“Did you miss class?” Patton whispers.

Virgil shrugs. “Nothing important. I sent an email to my teachers saying that I wasn’t feeling too good and didn’t want to risk accidentally spreading anything to anyone, which already helps because I didn’t go to class yesterday and I’ve already turned in all my work for the week for most of my classes. Besides, you were here and I didn’t want to just leave you all alone-- what if Roman started playing his Disney compilations at 160 decibels again?”

“You like Disney, though.”

“I also like my hearing and my best friend,” Virgil says like it’s nothing, like it’s obvious, like it shouldn’t be making Patton tear up again because Virgil is just so nice.

“I’m sorry,” Patton whispers.

Virgil moves his computer and jostles around on the bed until they’re lying side-by-side even though the bed was definitely not made for two persons. He presses his head to Patton’s, and he’s cool and soft and safe.

Together. We got this.

“Your mom?” He asks.

Patton nods, with a lump in his throat that makes all the words he wants to say crumble to ashes on his tongue. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Pat,” Virgil says.

“But… Logan…”

“He’s not going anywhere,” Virgil says. “And, full offense, but no boy is going to be more important to me than you regardless of how fuuuuuuunkily hot he is. Funkily, yeah, sure, that’s a word that I definitely was going to say right there.”

Patton feels the laugh build up in his chest, against all the odds in the world, and it tastes like chocolate when it rolls out of his mouth.

Virgil bumps his shoulder, and grins. “Look, I’m trying here. Cursing is in my nature!”

“Thank you,” Patton says. For everything.

“No prob, Bob,” Virgil says. I would do it all all over again and never change a thing.

“I’m not Bob! I’m Pat!”

Virgil’s laugh is like the sun breaking through the clouds after a rainstorm, like a rainbow cascading through the sky, like being caught after a fall. Patton gets the energy to smile back when he hears it and that alone nearly makes him want to cry again.

Patton twists the blanket under him between his fingers and takes a deep breath. “Did you…” He says before pausing to swallow back the taste of his own stomach acids he’s not sure is entirely imaginary. “Did you pick a game? For Logan?”

Virgil’s nose twitches, which means the answer is a sound no. “It’s not that important right now. You’re not feeling up to--”

“ Vir -gil,” Patton says and Virgil’s nose twitches again.

They share a look for another minute, two, three, before Virgil exhales and looks away.

“Fine, fine,” he says. “I didn’t pick out a game yet. I actually saw him in the Cafe earlier with Janus and he waved, though, which was awesome until I waved back and forgot to look where I was going and walked straight into a glass door. At this point it’s going to be a miracle if Logan doesn’t laugh in my face when I ask him to play anything with me.”

“He won’t laugh at you,” Patton says and Virgil slides his arms up and crosses them so he can bury his chin in them like he doesn’t believe Patton at all. “From what you’ve told me, Logan is really nice isn’t he? And the other day didn’t you say that he went on a rant about Pluto being a planet? I think that’s just as silly as you walking into a door.”

Virgil hums to show he’s listening, even if he isn’t taking the words to heart as much as letting them filter through his ears. Patton licks the last of the chocolate muffin from his fingertips and blinks away the urge to hide away from the rest of the world when he spies the box for Trouble on the ground next to Virgil’s desk trash can.

Virgil follows his gaze to the box and he purses his lips, although Patton isn’t sure if its from the fact that he’s remembering that neither of them won last night, or if he’s thinking about odds of beating Logan again or if he, too, is thinking about ghostly fingers trying so hard to move playing pieces that they can no longer touch.

Patton rolls over and stares at Virgil’s ceiling instead, counting his breaths until he feels like the static between his ears isn’t going to overwhelm him.

“What game do you want to play?” Patton asks.

“I won’t win.”

“I didn’t ask what game you wanted to win,” Patton points out. “What game do you want to play against Logan?”

Virgil is quiet, but he sighs so heavily that Patton can see his bangs flutter out of the corner of his eyes.

“This is going to sound stupid,” Virgil says, and again Patton remembers that nothing Virgil ever says has ever once been stupid. “But I don’t want to play against him at all.”

Patton frowns, rolling his head to the side to take in Virgil’s gaze that is already looking at him. His dark eyes are there and the something in them that Patton doesn’t want to put a name to is there again, shining just like the rays of light between Virgil’s blinds.

“I mean I want to play a game with Logan, just not against Logan. It’s stupid, okay? I was just thinking about the cooperative games back at your house that we used to play with your dad and step mom-- you know like the Unlock , Escape-room-in-a-box games? Or maybe Flashpoint? Or Forbidden Island? I was just thinking how shit I am at making my own decisions in Pandemic and Logan is really good at strategy so I bet that working together we’d be able to beat any game.”

Patton breathes deeply, sharply, and tries to ignore the piercing pain in his chest at the mention of the games. Virgil winces like he wants to take the words right back out of the air and hide them somewhere where neither of them have to face them at all.

“I don’t…” Virgil says, “I don’t want to play against him and lose. I’d rather play with him and win. Again: it’s stupid.”

Patton closes his eyes, and sees the shelf his mom left him full of boardgames she picked out long before he was past chewing on building blocks, of him at eleven years old finally getting the courage to drag a kitchen chair to the case and pick out a game while Virgil stood by to make sure he didn’t fall and to remind him that it was okay if he didn’t didn’t feel strong enough to try, of the two of them sitting at the kitchen table with the game directions between them that don’t really make any sense because it there’s no directions on how to attack each other when his dad comes home early and freezes at the sight

He might not remember his mother’s face outside of photographs he doesn’t remember being taken, but he remembers clearly the softness of his father’s expression when he dropped into the seat next to them and asked if they knew how to play this one yet.

“It’s a cooperative game,” his dad said, with a voice shaking and eyes wet. “That means we all work together to get to the goal at the end. Each player is going to have a different superpower-ability-thing that they can do that will make it easier for us to win as a team.”

So no, Patton doesn’t think that it’s stupid at all. It’s hard to do things by themselves, it’s scary, it’s difficult, it’s frustrating. That’s why when Virgil is texting him that the world is ending because of a boy, Patton will always show up at his dorm with soup and cookies and a game for them to play together instead of telling him that he’s being dramatic and silly. That’s why when Patton is missing a woman who hasn’t been in his life for twelve years now, Virgil will always stay with him to remind him that he’s going to get through it, instead of telling him to suck it up.

It’s much easier to win when they’re on the same side.

And Virgil has only ever had fun when playing games that he wins, hasn’t he?

“Why don’t you?” Patton asks suddenly.

Virgil must have nodded off because he jerks suddenly when Patton speaks up, “huh?”

“Why don’t you play a cooperative game?” Patton asks. “What did Logan say specifically about the whole dating thing?”

Virgil rubs an eye and squints at him tiredly. “I told you, he said he would only date someone who beats him at a game. I don’t--”

“Did he say beats him, or beats the game with him?”

“Neither?” Virgil says. “He literally said to Janus very loudly, “I will only consider someone a viable romantic partner if they can win in a game with me.””

“In a game with me,” Patton repeats. “ In a game with me. Not in a game against me!”

It takes Virgil a long, breathless moment to comprehend it, but it’s clear the moment it hits him. Virgil jerks so hard that he tumbles off the bed entirely and to the ground in a fumbling of long limbs, blankets, dubiously cleaned clothes, and his computer-headphones combo. Patton yelps and leans over to check on him but Virgil doesn’t even look like he noticed.

“Holy Shit,” He says, “holy shit, Pat.”

“Language.”

“ HOLY SHIT!” Virgil yells, and then he laughs and covers his mouth like he’s trying to bottle up the sound. “Patton! Patton! He didn’t say against!”

Virgil’s eyes sparkle, the light through the window makes his dark hair shine and just looking at him Patton thinks he’s never once seen him so happy before, so delighted, so excited.

So full of hope.

The next thing he knows is that he’s sitting up and Virgil is wrapped around him in a hug so tight, so soft, so cool and wonderful that those pesky tears come right back to his eyes. Virgil hugs like he’s unafraid of anything for just this endless moment, like he’s never been unsure of physical touch before, like he’s done it a million times before and Patton shouldn’t feel his breath catch in his lungs lest he shatter this dream with an exhale.

He’s standing at the eye of the storm that is Virgil, and he’s never felt so safe before in his life.

“Thank you,” Virgil whispers, “I, uh, I’m sorry for the sudden hug--”

And then, of course, Remus’s music comes back with a vengeance that rattles the ceiling tiles overhead and makes Virgil hiss and break the hug. Patton thinks that he could forgive it, if it weren’t for the unmistakable sound Disney’s Mulan soundtrack also ringing in the air, like it was trying to be heard over the rap music. Dust sprinkles from the tiles overhead.

“I’m going to kill them both,” Virgil vows, but Patton is quicker. He lunges forward before he even knows what he’s doing and coils around Virgil as tightly as he can, and just hugs him, his best friend, the guy who’s always been there for him, and who deserved all the happiness that he could get.

“Pat?” Virgil says.

“If Logan doesn’t treat you right I’m going to make sure no one finds his body,” Patton says.

And Virgil’s laughter makes it sound like he doesn’t quite believe Patton, but that’s okay. Virgil is still looking for reasons to play a game if not to win, and Patton is still trying to find a game that makes him smile, and together they’re going to figure out how to get Virgil to win with Logan.

But for now the hug is good, and the company is nice, and they have the game Trouble packed away ready for the next time they want to play.

#sanders sides #board gaming #platonic moxiety #Analogical #Logan is the hottest side confirmed #Because everyone wants to date him #(Except Pat)#Me the author: what the fuck is hurt comfort #tw: cancer #I just like board games okay #maybe a little too much #I kNew YoU WeRe TrOuBlE WhEn YoU wAlKeD IN #virgil is a disaster gay #Patton really awesome #Hugs? Hugs.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

The Little Things in Life - 2

Warnings: cheating, non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark!Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Summary: Your suburban life begins to show cracks and your next door neighbour, Steve Rogers, seems intent on shattering what’s left.

Note: Chapter 2! So I’m in between too many things. I always appreciate your guys’ patience and reading. You know how it be; I’m a mess. Thanks to everyone for their feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Based on this drabble

On Wednesday, you spent the morning working in your office with one eye on Kayla. You’d be relieved in the fall when she could go to school and you could focus a little better. Well, you’d see which you felt when the time came.

You had lunch in the backyard at her plastic picnic set and played on the slide. You checked the time as you went inside and a knock sounded at the door. Kayla followed you as you answered it. Steve greeted you with a cool smile.

“Sharon just went off to see her mother,” He said. “So I figured, we can sneak out now and grab the flowers.”

“Uh, yeah,” You waved him in as you turned to Kayla. “You wanna go for a car ride?”

“I want ice cream,” She clapped her hands.

“You want ice cream?” You asked as you knelt to fix the strap on her shoes which had twisted. “Well, if you’re good in the car, we’’ll take you by the shop. How about that?”

“I hate looking at flowers,” She crossed her arms. “They bite.”

“Only if you touch the cactuses,” You chided as you stood and grabbed your car keys from the hook and the old leather purse that sat on the low bench. “You don’t mind if I drive? Her seat’s a bit of a hassle to move around.”

“Nope,” Steve kept his foot in the door as the sunlight slatted down his tall figure. “We should have a couple of hours to beat Sharon. I really think it’ll be a nice surprise for the weekend.”

“This weekend?” You wondered. “I don’t know. We’d till have to plant everything.”

“I could toss in another bottle of wine for your trouble.” He offered.

You shook your head. He’d sent you home with what was left of the Pinot on Monday and it still sat in your fridge. Beckoning to you as you laid next to an empty space. Or worse, an indifferent Logan. His work consumed him and he often spent hours poring over it or even rushed out to appease his demanding boss. Well, you had your Saturdays and those were always nice.

“It’s fine. I’m not much of a drinker.” You said. “The helmet.”

“The helmet?” He tilted his head.

“Selfie,” You pointed your keys at him as you took Kayla’s hand. “For the extra effort.”

He shrugged as he opened the door.

“Fine,” He said. “So, you and Logan coming to the party?”

“I know I am,” You locked the door behind you. “We’ll see if Logan can keep off his phone for more than twenty minutes.”

You led Kayla to the car and Steve stood just behind you as you helped her in and strapped her into the seat. You closed the door and turned back.

“Yeah, he’s definitely been a bit… absent,” Steve commented as he went around to the passenger side. “You know, the last time he came over to watch the game, I changed it to the Orioles and he didn’t even notice.”

“It’s work,” You climbed into the car as he mirrored you. “I can’t say I don’t do the same. I’m cutting crusts off sandwiches and plotting my next lesson.”

“Multitasking,” Steve mused as he closed the door. “But I’m sure the sandwiches are still great.”

You turned the engine and looked at Kayla in the mirror. She kicked her feet impatiently in her seat as she hummed.

“There’s a little leapfrog toy in the glove compartment,” You said to Steve as you backed up. “You wanna get it for her… she’ll start singing soon if you don’t.”

🏠

Kayla chose some daisies for your front garden as you showed Steve the pansies. They were small and simple. You mixed in some freesias and some heather, too. Steve picked out a new set of garden tools to give to Sharon as well and a pair of cute floral gloves.

You paused as you checked out and glanced over at your neighbour. You couldn’t recall the last time Logan had done more than grabbed a pizza on his way home. And he always forgot that you couldn’t stomach pepperoni. Oh well, you supposed it was the gesture that counted.

You carefully loaded the tray of plastic pots into your trunk as Kayla demanded her scoop. She had behaved quite well. Steve picked her up as you crossed the street and headed for the parlor at the opposite corner. You neared a cafe only a few doors away and Steve pointed to the painted moniker on the glass.

“You know I heard that place is good. The coffee is from--” You stopped short and Steve turned to face you. “What’s up?”

You backed up and glanced at the license plate of the black Volkswagen. The same scratch on the bumper, the same numbers. You blinked and pulled out your phone. No messages. You looked to Steve.

“That’s Logan’s car but why…” Your voice trailed off and you neared the cafe window.

You peered in and searched the tables. Your husband’s dark hair was visible just towards the corner of the shop. You recognised the woman beside him. Karina, his boss. Her ginger curls were drawn back into a large bun and she turned to giggle at Logan. You could see his hand on her thigh as she stole a bite from his muffin. Your heart stopped.

“Come on, let’s just…” You blinked at Steve and his eyes were aimed through the window as Kayla tugged at his tee and whined for ice cream. “Let’s go. I could go for some mint chip.”

Steve hesitated before he turned back, careful to keep Kayla away from the cafe as you passed it.

“Mint chip? Boring.” He taunted after a moment. “What about you Kayla? You like cotton candy ice cream?”

“No, I want strawberry!” She chimed.

“Strawberry?” He reached for the door with his free hand and pulled it open. “Bleh! I’d rather a plain and very boring vanilla.”

“I like strawberry!” Kayla argued.

“How about black cherry?” Steve followed you inside. “You old lady.”

“I’m not old. I’m only four.” Kayla huffed. “You’re old!”

“I am,” He chuckled as he neared the counter.

There was only one customer ahead of you as you perused the flavours. You barely read the signs for each bucket as your head was a blur of indiscernible voices and lights. You could only see Logan and his hand in Karina’s lap. Was this why he was so obsessed with work? ‘Work?’

“Mint chip?” Steve nudged you out of your trance as the aproned server looked at you over the glass. “One or two scoops?”

“Um, actually I’ll get a scoop of the butterscotch. In a cup, please.” You found it hard to speak.

You approached the til and Steve insisted on paying. You sat against the wall and poked at your ice cream as Kayla made a mess with her cone. You did your best to keep her tidy with a napkin but she dripped enough down her shirt to drown the unicorn on its front. You reprimanded her as she refused to finish the last of the dry cone and you cleaned up the table with Steve’s help.

You crossed the street so that you didn’t pass the cafe again. You peeked over and Logan’s car was still there. You got Kayla into her seat and searched around for her tablet. You took out the headphones with bunny ears you had gotten her for her birthday.

“You wanna listen to some Wiggles?” You asked.

“Yeah,” She pulled them on and you unlocked the small tablet and put on the music player.

You handed her it and she brought up the frog game she liked to play. You ruffled her hair before you backed out and dropped into the driver’s seat. You glanced at Kayla before you pulled out. Steve was silent beside you.

“You didn’t seem very surprised... you knew?” You asked quietly. His lack of answer was telling. “Did you do this on purpose? Did you know they would be there?”

“No, I… I didn’t know they’d be there,” He said.

“But you knew… about her?” You gripped the wheel tightly.

“He told me about someone else but… he said it was a one time thing. A slip up.” Steve admitted.

“One time,” You scoffed angrily. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sorry.” He said softly.

“For what? You’re not my husband,” You steamed. “Unless, you’ve been helping him sneak around but I highly doubt you have the time for that when you have a newborn at home. Oh but if she’s older, it’s fine. You can get away with it, you can--”

You took a breath and hissed.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t--” You growled and hit the steering wheel. “It’s not your fault. I just… I’m so embarrassed. And you knew. You knew!”

“I thought of telling you, I just didn’t know how,” Steve said. “And if I had known they were going to be there, I wouldn’t-- Well, I’d still be a coward.”

“It’s really not your problem. Not your marriage.” You leaned closer to the windshield as you focused on the road. “Can we… can we plant the flowers tomorrow? I gotta get Kayla cleaned up and I have dishes in the sink…”

“Sure, sure,” He said. “That’s fine. I get it.”

“Does Sharon know?” You croaked.

“No.”

“Please, don’t tell her.” You gulped and glanced in the rear view as Kayla tapped the tablet. “I couldn’t-- I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“Are you going to… confront him?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know,” You muttered. “I don’t know if I can. I…” You looked over at him as you stopped for the sign. “Really, don’t worry about it. Please.”

🏠

You barely said a word to Logan that night. You couldn’t find any and besides you hadn’t much of a chance as your husband was just as late as ever. And when he’d finally come to bed, you waited for him to snore before you crept out.

You snatched his phone and retreated to the hallway. You sat just outside your bedroom door as you scrolled through the messages; the pictures. How had you not suspected a thing? How had you trusted him so completely?

You told yourself that time had worn on the marriage. Your sex life was strained but it would even out again. And the communication, that just needed a good talk and you would find time for that one day. But… you were wrong. It was a shell.

Your eyes teared up as you thought of Steve. He and Sharon were so perfect. They had it all. Everything you pretended to have. And he still cared for her. He wanted to make her a garden of her own. Wanted to do something for her as she spent her days taking care of their child. All you ever got was heartburn.

You took Kayla to daycare the next morning so that you didn’t have to be there to see Logan off. You drove back slowly and found yourself on that same street. You parked and strode down to the cafe. Inside, it smelled of beans and cinnamon. You ordered a latte to go and half-dozen cookies.

Your car was filled with the scent of caramel and you pulled up to your house with dread knotted in your stomach. Could you get past this? For Kayla? You opened the car door and turned to hang your legs out. You held the box of cookies on your lap and inhaled the aroma that floated from the sweet latte. You couldn’t go inside. You couldn’t face the empty house.

“Hey,” Steve frightened you as he jogged up your drive. He wore his track shorts and a tee. He glistened from his morning run. “You okay?”

You nodded and forced yourself to stand. You elbowed the door shut and set your latte on the roof of your car as you locked it.

“Cookie?” You offered the box.

“No, no, it’s a bit… early.”

“Sharon home?” You asked. “Awake?”

“She is.” He said. “I was just on my way to relieve her. My shift starts soon.”

“Oh,” You took the latte and he eyed the logo on the cup.

“Where’s Kayla?”

“Daycare,” You answered. “I thought it would be better but… it’s just lonely.”

“Come over,” He said. “Come see Sharon and the baby.”

“No, I couldn’t--”

“She’d appreciate the company,” He urged. “The adult company. I think the baby talk is driving her crazy.”

You looked across the street and then back to your house.

“Alright.” You relented. “Thanks.”

“And if we end up hitting the felt…” He kidded.

“Sure,” You rolled your eyes and followed him down the drive.

🏠

Sharon looked immaculate. She had a four month old baby in her arms and glowed like the Madonna. She greeted you with a warm smile as Steve pecked her cheek and then Sarah’s head. You slipped out of your shoes and followed her into the living room. As you sat on the sofa and set down your coffee and cookies, she handed you the baby and offered you breakfast.

You lied to her and told her you had already eaten. You looked down at the child; blond, blue-eyed, beautiful. Steve neared you as Sharon retreated to the kitchen and the sound of the blender came muffled from the doorway. You glanced up at Steve.

“You want her?” You offered.

“She likes you,” He sat next to you and waved away the offer. “She can’t stop looking at you.”

You looked down and the blue eyes shone up at you. You smiled and rocked Sarah as you leaned back against the cushion.

“I guess it’s a bit of a moot question now, but you ever thought of having another?” Steve asked.

“You always think about it.” You said. “But often think better of it.”

You looked over at him as the noise of the blender died. His eyes were much like those gazing up at you. Bright, intent. You felt almost shy as he watched you. You tore your attention from him and brought Sarah closer to your chest as she reached up with her small fingers. You cooed at her and touched her cheek.

“Here,” Sharon handed Steve a green smoothie and sat with her own. “You didn’t bring Kayla?”

“She’s at the daycare.” You explained. “She missed her friends.”

“She’s such a sweetheart,” Sharon said and her eyes drifted down to Sarah. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen ours so calm.”

“You will. I found it came in phases. Sometimes it’s non-stop, sometimes their angelic.” You mused.

Your stomach clenched as you thought of Kayla when she was that small; as you wondered how it had become all so twisted. Was it the kid? Was it you? You blinked away the dampness in your eyes and turned to hand Steve the baby. He took her and you reached for your latte. The caffeine wouldn’t help your nerves but the momentary warmth would soothe you.

🏠

On Friday, Sharon had a hair appointment so Steve came over to interrupt your paperwork. You brought Kayla with you as he set Sarah up in her plastic seat on the lawn.

He helped carry the flowers over from your garage and you set to the task of weeding and digging out spots for the new buds. You had a short time to get it done before Sharon returned.

Kayla liked Sarah. She showed her the flowers and the new doll she’d gotten from your mother. You knelt beside Steve as he took your direction and you found yourself reaching over each other, distracted only as you kept the children entertained between unpotting the plants.

There was a tension lingering. Words unsaid. You caught Steve’s glances and the pity in his tone. You dusted off your jeans and stood as you stepped back to admire your work. He watched you then and you felt like snarling at him. You could see his sympathy and it sickened you.

“Amazing,” He rose and came to stand beside you. “She’ll love it.”

“I’m sure she will,” You said.

You bent and started to stack the empty plastic planters. You piled them all into the tray and gathered up your little set of tools.

“Me and Kayla should go, it’s close to nap time and--”

“I’m not tired,” Kayla said. You looked at her sharply.

“Please, why don’t you come in and… have some lemonade before you go?” Steve said. “Just a little while.”

“I don’t know. Sharon will be--”

“Sharon always gets her nails done when she gets her highlights,” Steve assured you. “Besides, she’s not dumb enough to think I did all this by myself.”

“I like lemonade,” Kayla said and tugged on your belt loop. “Only pink.”

“Pink…” He bit his lip. “You know, I think I might have some.”

“Fine, I’ll go put this stuff away,” You said.

“I’ll get the kids inside.” He lifted Sarah from her chair and offered his hand to Kayla. “I think it’s good for Sarah to socialize.”

You nodded and quickly retreated across the street. You shoved everything in the shed and stopped as you went to replace the latch. Had it all been pity? Had Steve discovered Logan’s secret and decided to start bugging you out his own guilt? It felt entirely mocking. Worse, humiliating.

He shouldn’t be worrying about you. You snapped the locked close through the loop and spun the dial. He had a wife and kid. He needed to worry about them. Not you and your denial of your splintering marriage. You crossed the street and kicked the dirt off your boots before you entered. You unlaced them and found Kayla in the living room.

She sat in front of the TV as Sarah was sprawled out in a playpen. You checked on your daughter then followed the subtle noises of activity to the kitchen. You entered as Steve tore the top off a frozen lemonade mix. It was pink like he promised.

“I could add some vodka to yours,” He offered as he squeezed it out into a pitcher.

“Look, Steve,” You neared the other side of the island. “You don’t have to atone for what Logan is doing.”

“What?” His eye lashes flicked up as he looked at you. “You don’t think-- You know, we’re friends, right? You and me? This has nothing to do with Logan.”

“Oh no?” You challenged. “I’m not that great at pool and I hate baseball.”

“Is that all I am? A felt table and ESPN?” He asked.

“No, but, come on,” You sighed. “I don’t want to be your pity project.”

“You’re not,” He said as he added water to the pitcher. “That would be Bucky.”

You couldn’t help the snort. He returned to the island and began to whisk the mixture.

“And to be honest, it’s been a tough couple months. Pent up in here with a crying baby. I’m sure you know how it is. Talking to people who can actually answer me with more than a spit bubble is like a breath of fresh air.”

He smirked and went to grab glasses from the cupboard. He poured each and pushed one across to you as he took the other two.

“And you already said you’d come to the party so don’t even think of backing out now,” He passed you as he went to the door. “Sharon’s looking forward to it.”

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #the little things in life #au #fic #series #suburban au #dark fic #dark!fic #mcu #marvel #captain america

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